May 13, 2006
While walking on an errand eight years ago, I stumbled upon a man and a woman having an intimate conversation.
At first, etiquette demanded that I press on, granting them the privacy they deserved. But then some radiance paralyzed my legs. I could do nothing but stare. Their world of inexplicable synchrony drew me in - with no hope, and no thought, of escape. Then etiquette rescinded and went silent, leaving only a chant in my mind: Holy, Holy, Holy…
After a time, either minutes or days, a sudden applause jolted me back to my own world. I was shocked to find the couple adorned in full performance attire. I couldn’t believe that such intimacy had been achieved at a distance of five feet. On a stage. In front of an audience. None of them had left, either – though I am sure we shared that same initial conflict.
At some point the sun had set, and I realized I was freezing. My feet were numb. My back was sore. My errand was forgotten. My values were transformed.
In the span of one performance, I had become less satisfied with this place I had lived all my life. I had finally visited home, and I needed to go back.
I pointed at the stage and solemnly swore, “I am going to do… THAT.”
Thank you, Josh and Deb.
