Today is the day. The sun is shining. The snow melting.
The sky is clear. The dark clouds are dissipating.
Her heart is filled with bright hope.
The type of blinding hope that pulls on the toughest heart strings, one chord after another.
She is convincing. She puts her heart into the performance. Look at her.
With her shoulders rolled back, she is putting on light makeup.
We look at her up and down, up and down, up and down.
She is in a silk robe, loosely tight. We cannot stop looking at her, up and down.
Humming to the acoustic melody, her face is transforming in front of her: eyebrows are standing up neatly; eyelashes curled and elongated; lips are sending confident greetings in pink.
The rice is cooking on the stove while she is twirling and swinging her tiny waist from polar ends of the stage.
She is returning a stack of books onto the bookshelf. She is putting clothes into the washing machine. She is poking the rice with her index finger.
The mundane tasks become religious rituals. She is our Goddess in a silky robe. We submit to her every move.
She is convincing us that today is the day. She is getting things in order. The future looks bright. We do not doubt her. We want her to be our daughter, mother, lover, sister, boss, savior. We don’t want the show to end.
Today is the day. The 90-minute Broadway show is touring across the country. Come see her. She is convincing.
