Running Was Worth It

I ran.  I ran out the door and down the stairs and around the corner and past those people and took another turn and then another because I had no clue where I was.  Finally I made it to a bathroom in the Smith Field House to change from my slippery sweat pants and pineapple t shirt into a skirt and jacket and heels.  Don't worry.  This was only the fourth time that day I had changed my clothes.  Class then dentist then work then class then this.  It was my longest day in existence and I was about ready to pass out.  To just fall on the ground and let everyone walk around me - which would normally make me feel extremely uncomfortable.  But I was going to make it to that play on time if it killed me.  

So I ran some more.  I ran out into the cold that cut my cheeks like little paper cuts and up the dreaded "kill me now" RB stairs and past the library where I was recently spending the majority of my time and finally in the door of the HFAC.  

We were sitting in our seats: Afton, me, Mom, and Cait in our respective cushioned seats.  I couldn't remember the last time sitting had felt so nice.  It still felt like my legs were moving, one foot in front of the other, like they had been all day.  But now I could just sit.

Afton is hilarious.  She talks a million miles an hour, sings a million notes a measure, and shows a million emotions a minute.  So we sat and talked and teased and laughed.  Finally the auditorium went dark, with one bright light shining on the stage; it was as if the anticipation of every person in the cavernous room had culminated in that one square inch. 

Honestly, I was planning on falling asleep.  I was so exhausted, I'm pretty positive I could've fallen asleep through the sound of the BYU student section during a tied BYU-Utah game.  I couldn't imagine Phantom of the Opera holding my consciousness much longer.  

Boy was I wrong.

The play kept Afton awake.  That means something.  She has the attention capacity squirrel.  And she only complained once - and it was during the intermission so that doesn't really count.  

I still can't believe how good it was.  No.  Not good.  That doesn't really do it justice.  That's like saying the Atlantic ocean is kinda big.  Or Princess Kate's wedding dress was cute.  Or Tillamook Mudslide ice cream is chocolatey.  Or the Holocaust was sad.  Or the novel Les Miserables is long.

When the Phantom sang, I literally cried.  Now that may not mean much, coming from me - the queen of criers.  But it reached something deep in this place kind of in between my heart and my throat.  It was so real.  That man standing on the stage really loved Christine more than anything else he knew.  He really felt so outcast and alone that he would steal, lie, and kill to have someone - her - there with him in the depths of the opera house and in the depths of his heart.  

To just sit there and listen and watch and feel.  My arms were covered in goosebumps, my mouth sat agape, and tears gathered in the corners of my eyes near my nose.  I glanced down at Afton.  She sat erect, wide eyes looking even wider, as her gaze followed every action on stage.  I could tell that it had hit her in that special place between her heart and her throat.

And in that moment, all that running was worth it.