I miss my wife
Tuesday night, I stood backstage, waiting for The Finale to begin. Susan and Bob were saying final goodbyes on stage as Pippin and Catherine. I was alone. Suddenly, as if an angel had tapped my shoulder, I was awakened into a dream of my wife.
Until rehearsals began, we spent so much time together. We rarely go out, nor do we entertain a lot. With five kids, those things are just out of the question. But we’re so lucky that we both recognize each other’s company as one of God’s finest gifts. Through her, He reveals emotional planes to me that could never be taught in a religion class nor described in a book nor even captured in a painting. I missed her.
The real world, then, broached the surface of my dream. “I guess I’ll miss the man. Explain it if you can . . .” And it carried me back. I missed her, oh so much. While I could act forever, beginning one play the day after strike, I couldn’t do it without her. I envy the Bucks and the Haberbergers. What a joy it would be to work with my best friend.