Tonight is the second night of my production. You are a little too young to see this show. I dropped you off at your Grammy's for the night because dad and I are both involved in the show. You told me your tummy hurt, and I knew you had caught the stomach bug your brother had a few days ago. I was hoping you would just have stomach cramps like I did and not be really sick. But your little body and your little tummy isn't as rough and abused as mine and you got really sick. Grammy told me and asked me to come get you. I left the show in the last few minutes of the first act. My job as director is done. I've put everything in place to run smoothly so it's not a crisis for me to leave. Which is bittersweet I admit. But I'm not worried about my show. I came and picked you up. Another time I might have been irritated with you. A time in my past I might have showed you my frustrations. But tonight as I drove to get you all I could think of was this. You are my first job. You are one of the most important things in my life. I'm grateful not only that I was in position to be there when you needed me, but that I'm your mom. You apologized to me and asked me what would happen with my show. Pale and tired and feeling generally crappy you offered to come lay down at the theatre so I could go back. Theatre was my greatest love at one point in my life. It is still a great love. But you, your brother, and your father are the greatest loves in my life. You all fill me so completely with joy and satisfaction that as I sit here and listen to the music that is incorporated in my show about mothers all I can do is be so grateful to be your mom. You are a beautiful, amazing, kind, smart young girl. I don't know what stars aligned to bring you into my life but I carry your heart in my heart (e.e. Cummings). And I will love you until the end of time. No matter what. Get well soon my darling. And please don't worry about my show. I'm not worried about it.
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