Last week I took my daughter to see a professional production of A Chorus Line, one of my favorite musicals. The stage lights came up and the opening number began. “God, I hope I get it,” the cast sang, as they auditioned for a fictional Broadway show. I got a little tight in the throat and watery in the eyes when the music started. The feeling lasted only a few seconds, and then I was engrossed in the stories of seventeen young hopefuls who each dream of being a Broadway dancer.
Why did I get choked up as the show began? Certainly not because of what was happening on stage; the show is upbeat and hopeful. “God, I hope I get it.” Those opening bars took me right back to being a teenager, when I idolized those stars in the making. A wide open future, scary and exhilarating. So much unknown, so much to be written.
What was I dreaming of when I was a teenager? What did I want my life to be? I wanted to go to college, have a career, be independent, fall in love, get married, have children. I also had dreams that were frivolous and far fetched, an indulgence afforded to the young. So maybe some of my reaction was simply nostalgia.
As the years have passed, some of my dreams have come true, some were forgotten, and some were replaced by different ones. Now my dreams are less grandiose, more realistic, more doable. They are simple dreams, achievable ones. Maybe they should be called wishes. Or hopes. Or goals. Dreams seem so lofty, the stuff of fairy tales. Wishes, hopes, goals – these words feel like a better fit. I can work toward them, make them happen on my own.
I’m not usually this reflective. I can be introspective, but it’s not my default setting. So why did this show evoke such a visceral reaction?
I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I was sitting next to my daughter, who is about the same age that I was when I first saw A Chorus Line. There’s much research suggesting that music can evoke memories. As I listened to the opening notes, I was remembering the teenage me who watched the musical. And while that teenager lives in my mind, my daughter was present beside me.
That’s a little too “circle of life” for me, a little hokey. It’s true, though. And instead of being sad about a part of my life that is over, I am full of hope for my child, who is on the cusp of her own unknown future, full of dreams and possibilities.
God, I hope I get it.” Turns out that “it” for me wasn’t a part in a Broadway show, although that was once one of those far fetched dreams. It was what I have now. It is who I have beside me. It is who I’ve grown up to become and who I will be as the years pass. That’s IT. Dreams don’t stop at age 20, or 30, or 40 – or ever. They simply change. Life is full of possibilities at any age. And maybe that’s worth getting a little choked up for.
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