Today’s the day. At half-past-7 (imagine that in a pretentious British accent), 14 brave women and 1 intrepid man will file onto the stage at Kenan Hall on the campus of William Peace University, take their sits and the inaugural Listen to Your Mother: Raleigh-Durham will begin. For the next hour and a half, the audience will be treated to original readings on motherhood: the highs, the lows, the hysterical, the wistful, the sweet. Tears of mirth as well as sadness may flow. And then, it will be over.
Somehow, it has become May, and it’s time for our show. It truly seems like only a few weeks ago when Marty and I were trying to find a location and then holding auditions. It seemed like we had plenty of time before the show, but the day has come.
We’re ready. There are a few show-day hiccups however: one cast member is in the ER for pain and shortness of breath, and I sound like a 3-pack-a-day smoker thanks to allergies (hopefully) or a poorly-timed cold (hopefully not). But the show will go on, and it is going to be so awesome.
We’re sold out, y’all. Sold out. We hoped we would sell out, but actually seeing the ticket site say zero tickets remaining gave us chills.
And our cast rocks. Despite only getting together a handful of times, the 15 of us plowed through forming, ignored storming, and quickly progressed to norming and as of tonight, performing. They are exchanging emails and offering each other hugs and advice, and swapping stories.
I learned in Performance Leadership that the quickest way to build trust and intimacy is to share something about yourself, to show that you are human; that’s what each of us have done in our pieces. Baring our souls has allowed us to gel, and I’ve never felt so close to so many former strangers in such a quick period of time. Everyone one of us is grateful for the opportunity to be in the show and keep thanking me and Marty while we keep thanking them. It’s their stories that make this first-ever show in Raleigh-Durham possible.
I have a new dress. I have new jewelry. I have a new haircut. And most importantly, I have new shapewear.
Of course, none of that is important. We could read in burlap sacks and it wouldn’t alter the impact of our words.
Spare a moment to whisper “break a leg” at 7:30 PM EST if you can. I can’t wait.