Everything Feels Like the Movies

Theatre has become somewhat of a tradition for us. We've seen plays at several different venues here in Cincinnati (both professional and amateur), plus Chicago and Stratford (Ontario). [edit: Mike Warnock has reminded me that he and his lovely wife, Jerri, took Robyn and I to a play in Charlotte a few weeks back. Sorry for the forgetfulness, my friend...] Prior to yesterday's play at Mount Echo Park, I can't remember when Robyn and I last saw a play. But, for the rest of my life, Shakespeare will trigger a very pleasant memory for me.

In early 2005, Robyn and I decided to be bold with our vacation plans. Instead of doing the normal hop-in-the-car, drive-somewhere-interesting, stay-at-a-hotel, possibly-do-some-shopping, eat-at-fun-restaurants vacation, we decided we were going to head for the mountains, hike, camp, whitewater raft, and other assorted outdoorsy-adventurous activities that we normally wouldn't gravitate toward. Then we found out she was pregnant and that changed the plan.

Probably my favorite vacation from childhood was to Stratford-on-Avon, in Ontario. The town was built as a sister city to Shakespeare's hometown across the pond. It's beautiful. It's romantic. And it has a theater festival that runs 7 months out of the year. We decided to stay in an old-fashioned bed-and-breakfast on the river and see a few plays at the festival.

We had been married 2 years at the time, and those 2 years weren't the smoothest or most fun. I was beginning to silently question whether or not the married life would ever feel good. I mean, I knew it was good, but it didn't feel good. Ya know how a good Hollywood chick-flick can portray idealistic human emotion? And then, when the movie is over, you think to yourself, "...I wish life felt like that every once in a while"?
We were a couple days into a much-needed vacation, and we were finally beginning to relax. We knew that our lives were never going to be the same. We had no idea what life was going to become with a child on the way.

Imagine the image above, only a million times more beautiful in person, at night. The only sound you hear is the quiet trickle of the calm waters against the shore. The only light came from the moon and the stars and the occasional streetlight.

We left the theater and decided to take the long way, along the river, back to the bed-and-breakfast. We walked slow. We laughed. We held hands and just let go of all the thoughts and fears that were consuming our minds. And I fell in love again that night. For the first time in marriage, I felt like I was in a movie. Time kinda stood still... the lighting was perfect... the electricity was there... and everything was just... right.

I can't help but think about that night every time we see a play. I'm not very cultured... I'm kind of an urban hillbilly... I have to nudge Robyn in the middle of the show to ask her what the hell is going on... but there's just something about going to a play with my wife that makes everything alright.

(Pardon the Goo Goo Dolls lyric, and please don't question my Man Card over this post. I assure you, I have not gone soft. Or, should I say, I have not gone softer than I already was.)