Andrew and I love to go to TheatreSports, an improv drama type thing on Granville Island in Vancouver. Well to be honest we’ve only been twice. The second time was for my birthday just over a month ago and despite my celebratory drunken state I managed to jot down a memory in my iPhone notes section (you’ll need to skim over the first couple of notes first):
The actors had to do this game where they’d have to be all whatever on stage until the spotlight focused in on one of them and in that moment, that person had to tell the truth. Whatever truth that came to their mind in quite literally, the heat of the moment.
Well the spotlight centred in on one guy and his truth rocked my world in the best of ways. He glanced upward as if to absorb the reality of the spotlight. Then he looked down at his feet and wiggled his toes in his shoes as if to sink his body further into the soothing familiarity of the stage. Then he looked up, fixed a strong gaze at the audience and told us this:
“The truth? I’m gay and my ex-wife’s name is Norico, the name I ‘randomly’ chose to use in the previous skit. And Norico and I are friends and she lives in the apartment right above me.”
That’s life. It’s life because it’s love and grace and redemption translated into hydro bills and sharing the package of baby carrots from Costco. It’s a hug when it should be held back. It’s an inside joke, a song that makes you both cry and you both know it and you don’t tell each other.
Sometimes life gets familiar and comfortable like lukewarm family sized macaroni and cheese casserole, or like the worn out bit on the front entrance light switch. But just because it’s comfortable doesn’t mean it’s right.
But thank Grace, you can grow flowers from where dirt used to be.
I can’t stop laughing at all the drunk typos in my iPhones notes. Aren’t you dying to know how I could possibly construct a post about asparagus pee?
If a spotlight shone on you right this second, right now while you’re reading this, what would you have to say out loud?
I’m drinking wine out of my cat mug. I hid Andrew’s wedding ring in the special piggy bank that my dear friend Melody gave to me when Callum was born because Andrew and I had a fight and I hid it when he took it off for his run. I don’t see Jake enough and my heart breaks every second of every minute of every hour and of every day for him, and nobody will ever understand it, and that has to be okay. The candle I bought from Bath and Body Works smells like salmon.