Friends, Listen To Your Mother Providence is tomorrow! And I might be freaking out a little. Okay, more than a
little. I’d describe myself as a jangle of nervy energy right now.
Why
the janglyness? Why the nerves? I’m not hugely nervous speaking in
front of an audience, usually. And I wouldn’t describe what I’m feeling
right now as that kind of nervous. It’s more about the tremendous
wonderfulness of this event. About the incredible talent and heart of
the fantastic women who will be telling their stories on that stage.
About the emotional bigness of it all.
In case you missed it, here’s the poem I wrote after our rehearsal last weekend (called “and this is only rehearsal”):
How strange
to stack up my stories
side by side the words
of women unlike me
yet like,
their stories not mine,
yet mine--
How wonderful to wrap
their words around my words,
struggles alongside mine,
another mother’s hopes
and fears
twined round my heart--
They call that an a-ha,
that moment
of profound
yet simple recognition--
yeah I get that,
it’s like that for me, too--
I won’t soon forget.
I
feel a little like I’m cheating by going up there and reading my poems.
I mean, I did not write a memoir piece specifically for this event like
my comrades did; I brought “mommish” poems I had already written. I’m
not going up on a stage to read a memoir of my children, of myself, of
my own mother, of motherhood--as these brave women are doing.
Except, who am I kidding? I am doing EXACTLY THAT. These poems ARE memoir. I’m telling my story. Light bulb! Aha!
So,
I am a little nervous, and more than a little excited, and I haven’t
figured out what to wear yet, and the whole thing is a big road-trippin’
ball of goodness tomorrow. Headed to Providence. If you are anywhere
nearby (I mean c’mon, I’ll be driving two hours to get there, so you
can, too) I really encourage you to come to the show. It is going to be
amazing, truly. Get your tickets here. I'm so full of gratitude for being a part of this incredible moment.
