I’ve tried to write this several times now, but this last month has pretty ugh decimated our household. Vinnie’s had a double ear infection for weeks, then you had a sinus infection, then you and I started tech weeks for DIFFERENT shows, then Vinnie had RSV, and you woke up vomiting, and my LORD.
The other day when I picked you up from school, Dan Folgerberg’s “Another Auld Lang Syne” came on the radio. Right before the sax solo, I said, “You wanna hear something crazy? You came out to meet the world riiiiiiiight now.”
And you, my beautiful boy, cocked your head to listen to the saxophone play and said, “Mom. That’s just not crazy at all.”
Because to you, it’s not odd that I would’ve labored for a day straight, only to have you make your grand entrance to a melodic interlude. You have always been MY child, scared of imperfection so always waiting to show your light. The child who would sit and babble alone in his room, while I greedily swallowed it all through the baby monitor. You wouldn’t talk in front of us until you had it perfected. You were the child who had to learn sight words, because sounding it out in from of us was just NOT an option.
Today, in a couple of hours (you naturally waited until fifteen minutes till curtain), six years will have passed since you gave me a reason to sob at the end of “Another Auld Lang Syne”. Oh, my child, you are simply one of my top four favorite things in all the world.
Ever since I was very young, I have always said a silent prayer before I set foot on stage. It helps me focus and remember what’s important, and I feel impervious once I’ve said it.
Dear Lord, please keep my steps in time, my voice in tune, and let me be a light to those who are seeking refuge from the darkness.
And my child, you are that to me.
You are a pretty splendid little person, Tony Maloney. Thank you for being my best fwend.