I have a daughter. She has a dream. She is a moderately talented, vivacious young woman of early teenage years. She wants to sing.
So tomorrow, with camp chair and book in hand, I will stand in line with her and 5,000 other hopefuls at an “open call” audition (which rightly is referred to as a cattle call, and I’m sure it will be populated with many stage cows – Ahem) for a coveted spot on an upcoming televised talent show. She has carefully prepared her audition piece. I have created her “comps” and resume (such as it is). She is vibrating with excitement – me? not so much.
The cheerleader in me wants her to make at least that first cut, to know that she does have talent, and perseverance, and a shot (and the prospect of wild, life altering success so her mother can enjoy a life of leisure and hang out with Bon Jovi). The Mommy part of me wants to have it stop here and now.
I wish that she would make easier life choices that are safer, and more assured of success and little luxuries – like a roof and groceries – not a life in my basement or in cramped quarters shared with six others trying to get that big break. If there is going to be heartbreak, let it happen now, when it’s small, and can be smothered with hugs, new shoes or a manicure.
But, I will go stand in a line at a shopping mall at 7AM and keep standing there until noon when the doors actually open. I will listen to her song for the 6,237th time. I will hear over and over how her friends say she is going to nail it, how she is a natural choice and I will smile every time. All that bravado not quite masking how terrified (and brave) she is to put herself out there in front of strangers who will judge her with unfriendly eyes. In 60 seconds they will decide whether or not she survives the first cut of many to come. I am so proud of her. I am so scared for her, not because of tomorrow but because she has a dream and the guts to pursue it.
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