Tuesday, 6 September 2011

Magenta gets that floating feeling

My 17-year-old daughter, let’s call her Kay, came home from her first day of grade twelve with the best news: she got a major part in this year’s high school drama production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show!!

Big news indeed.

Considering that this girl has a fine, clear, sweet voice. Considering that this girl rocked the six main voices in “Goodbye, Blue Sky” in grade nine for the school production of Pink Floyd’s The Wall.

Considering that she had a headpiece and mic in the grade ten production of Thirteen (a dreadful musical that no high school student should ever have to endure).

And also considering that she had a terrible, terrible year in grade ten, because of an awful boy. A boyfriend gone sour, gone awful, gone bad, bad, bad as a boy can get.

And because of this terrible boyfriend, her marks dropped. Her friends vanished (except for the true blue few). Her teachers all gave up on her.

And she got a rotten non-singing part in her grade eleven production of Cabaret, because none of the teachers thought she would turn up for rehearsal, or learn her part, or pay attention (all true the year before because of the Very Bad Boyfriend, who from now on shall be referred to as the VBBF).

Imagine. A non-singing part in C-A-B-A-R-E-T!!

So this year she picked herself up, dusted herself off, and started all over. She learned a fantastic song and a hilarious, pouty monologue, which she nailed in her rehearsal last spring. She was willing to face whatever came, another crap part, even if it was her last year in high school, her last year doing the musical, her last year waiting for a lead role…

…and today she found out that she got one!

Her teachers (bless them) see what I see, a great girl who had a rough year in grade ten with the VBBF, and who deserves another chance at a bigger role. She came into the house tonight bursting with her news:


(It’s a main part in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, for those of you whose viewing of said movie is so long ago, it is now a misty memory, or perhaps for those of you who somehow made it through high school and years of Halloween without seeing it!)

And we danced around together! We linked arms and danced around the living room, me just loving the joy on her face, and the excited race of her voice. It was just like she was six again.

She stopped dancing, and she said all out-of-breath, “Wow, what is this I’m feeling, mom?”

“It’s called happiness, Kay. Remember that? You don’t get to feel pure joy too often in life, just go with it. Float on it as long as you want.”

Then we danced some more. And I have to say, her joy was infectious: it was pretty easy to float right along with her.

It was just like she took her first step, or rode her bike for the first time, or lost a tooth, or got an “A”. I realized something important tonight: the milestones get fewer and further between when they reach their teens, but they get bigger, too.

And they still need you to dance along with them, and you never forget how.

For more on Magenta: Magenta rocks the stage

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