Tonight we rehearsed with the orchestra. That didn’t go as poorly as we all thought it would.

I’m still amazed that I’m in a musical.

Rehearsals are interesting for me. Rehearsals are where I can leave the real world alone for an hour or so and pretend to be someone else. Someone whose story has a clear path and an end. My path is not always clear. The end of my story is hidden by fog.

But during this hour or three, I let myself relax and become a part of the music. One of the songs is “Astonishing.” It’s Jo’s anthem. It’s the song she sings when she decides to…

…well, to do something. I’m mostly concerned with Meg’s motivation. Meg, the hopeless romantic who hates being a governess and really, really wants to get married. We are not at all alike. She does not have an anthem.

I wouldn’t mind having an anthem. I should write one. I’m a poet. I can do that.

Because life—my life—is astonishing. My life is not a musical. Sometimes I wish it was, but it isn’t. But every life is a song. Scratch that—each life is a symphony.

Even when you can’t hear it. Even the empty measures are there for a reason. And eventually it will all resolve under a final fermata, and I’ll walk away thinking, “Well, wasn’t that lovely?”

Yes. Yes, it will be lovely. 


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