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the last time I cried.

Book publisher 3

On Saturday evening just gone, I sat in a dark room with hundreds of people and cried. Tears dripped down my face and I relived my childhood.

The lights were turned low, the crowd was hushed and music captivated hearts, the curtain rose and I took a big breath. It wasn’t until the little ballerina’s tripped across the stage, that the tears started to flow. Bright coloured tutu’s took my creative heart back to those many years and many concerts and those costumes I adored.

You see, I grew up falling asleep under theatre seats. Every Thursday night and Sunday night, we had rehearsals with our local theatre company. My mum was an amazing actor and I had my first audition for a musical theatre show, when I was 5 years old. Most years we would be involved in two to three productions a year.

Make up, lights, costumes and hairspray.

Scripts, high heels, accents and stage managers.

One of my most vivid memories from my childhood was the night we were wearing our costumes home in the car after being in a performance of ‘Annie’. Suddenly with a splatter and cough, our old combi van broke down. We had no choice but to get out and walk, we had school the next day. So there we were dressed as orphans and our mum Mrs Hannigan, walking along one of the main roads of our seaside town. I can remember the toots of the horns and the flashes of the lights like it was yesterday.

What an adventure.

What a story to tell the kids the next day at school.

I was so cool.

Who had time for 7pm bedtime stories, we were living our dreams out on a stage with vivid colours, lights, with singing and dancing.

We grew up without a Tizzie Hall sleep routine, we grew up without an iPad or computer in our hand, we grew up exploring countries and customs as we pretended to be characters from their foreign lands.

It is because of the way that I experienced life as a child that I am so passionate about creativity now as an adult.

There is something profoundly rich about a childhood full of colour, life and brave moments on a stage. I cannot wait to see my son perform in his first dance concert, in the city at the convention centre this weekend. A memory of self-worth, confidence and achievement, I hope as a two-year old he will never forget.

A rich childhood, full of memories of life, colour and creativity. This is my dream for him. That he would find what he is good at and express it extravagantly.

How about you?

When was the last time you cried?

Happy tears or sad ones?

And what memory did they bring to the surface?



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