Finn Takes The Stage
All you have to do is ask her.
If you see my little Piper Finnian she will enthusiastically deliver her lines for you, British accent and all.
“Mum said you might want to play a game with me. We can skip rope if you like.” Pause. Sad face. “But I’m finished with all of my chores. You can have a go first.” Sadder face. Head over shoulder and stepping away from Lucy.
She and Kevin have been starring together in a local theatre’s version of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Piper is the youngest on stage with a speaking role. I’m pretty thrilled for her. Kevin plays Professor Kirk. Also with a British accent.
They are both doing a phenomenal job. Sure, I’m biased.
I do have a little credibility though, in my opinions of all things theatrical. I have a degree in theatre and I’ve directed high school plays for nearly a decade as well as directed community theatre performances. (Sometimes I have this bizarre self-serving need to shout qualifications for my opinions from the rooftops. Like I need legitimacy. Sometimes I feel as if I do.)
I’ve been taking Piper to play rehearsals for weeks. Waiting in the audience chairs and observing the young people on stage. Watching sets come together and costumes appear in various forms.
Because I’ve seen the chaos pre-show turn into beauty post-show, I found it easy to trust the process.
However.
I certainly had moments of watching and then wondering exactly how and when the tangles and tics would right themselves.
Kevin and Piper have completely enjoyed the increased one on one time together during the show’s production as they travel to and fro performances and rehearsals.
They had several shows together before our family was finally able to claim our seats in the auditorium and watch the curtains open. Every time they went on stage and I couldn’t be there to hear that tiny British accent and see that little maid’s daughter in costume, my heart hurt.
I was thrilled to be an audience member last week.
On one of our children’s birth announcements we choose this quote by Elizabeth Stone: “To have a child is a momentous decision. It is to decide forever to have your heart walk along outside your body.”
Kevin and I have felt the truth of this quote more times than we could ever keep track.
And Thursday night in that auditorium, far from arm’s reach to that stage, I thought my heart might burst from pride and my face might break from grinning.
My little Willow on that stage, the visceral reminder that my heart was indeed suddenly wearing black tights and brown shoes and a tiny lace headband. Speaking clearly and precisely and projecting right to the back of the room.
She has this one scene where she is pretending to be a daughter leaving her mother at the train station to ride a train alone to escape the danger of the bombings during war time in London. Her little blonde head. A mini shawl. Pretending to say farewell to her stage mother. Pretending to feel the weight of farewell. She was so adorably convincing.
And goodness – she’s so serious about her responsibility. “Mom,” she tells me, “I’ve had to give a lot of autographs. And when people ask me I try to write my name as tidy as I can.”
The entire play was so wonderful. Really. The word I kept using when I spoke with the director backstage after the show was magical. It’s a strong word. And I really meant it.
I’ve seen a lot of shows. And I’ve liked loads of them. I love live theatre. There is no experience quite like it. But this show was truly special. The actors were stellar and charming. The stage design was clever and the blocking created such movement and flow that the entire evening actually flew right by. Impeccable pacing. Really. The cast and crew pulled off a genuine piece of theatre magic.
Oma and Papa Dale are joining us later this week to catch a glimpse of the father-daughter duo in the spotlight. I’m so honored that they’re coming in for the show.
Every morning Piper wakes up and asks, “Is it a show day Mommy?” And she cheers when I say yes.
