The Ice Sculpture
November 28th, 2016
This time of year is frequently a period of reflection: taking stock of what’s happened and what is yet to be. For a long while, I shied away from such reflection, because of personal issues with the season (although, who doesn’t have at least some issues with the holidays?). But this year, I find myself in a new headspace.
Before I proceed, some context in case you, my dear reader, are unaware: my wife Maegan is pregnant with our first child, and she’s due at the end of 2016/beginning of 2017. We don’t know the sex of the baby, so in the meantime it’s been Baby Azar, or Bae-zar for short. All signs point to a healthy pregnancy, mother and Bae-zar are doing well, and we are rapidly approaching the big day, whenever that may be.
And it’s that rapid approach that is getting to me, I think.
I realize that, at 32, I’m still young, and that I (hopefully) have a lot of life ahead of me. But possibly for the first time in my life, I’ve realized how fleeting it all is. In a blink, I’ve found myself near the end of a process that seemed to take forever. (And I’m not even the one growing the baby! What Maegan must think and feel…) Last year, I never would have imagined having the conservations I now have, with people I only met in the past few months. And yet these conversations, and more importantly these people, have helped transform my worldview — a necessary transformation, and one for the better.
Last week, Maegan and I had close friends over for Thanksgiving (or “Friendsgiving” as it’s come to be called, although this is the first time I’ve heard of that term). Before we sat down to eat, I thanked them all for joining us and being a part of our lives. In the days leading up to Thanksgiving, I began to reflect honestly upon the people in my life, and I realized how truly, deeply appreciative I am of them.
After gobbling turkey, we entered tech for In the Next Room, or the vibrator play at the Warehouse Theatre. Sunday night, before our evening call after a dinner break, I sat in the theatre and watched. Watched some of my favorite people do the things they do best, and do it with love. Watched as they made a beautiful thing, this play about the very real struggle to find an honest connection to others in one’s life. And I started tearing up.
I don’t put much stock into the zodiac, but I’m a Pisces, and I understand we fish people can be an emotional bunch. What brought tears to my eyes was how little time there is for these things that matter. It seems like a mountain at the beginning: a play to rehearse, a room to build, a baby to grow. But then so suddenly you’re near the end, and you wish it could last longer. (Okay, maybe Maegan doesn’t wish for the pregnancy to last longer, but go with me here.)
We’ve all put in some much time and effort, poured our hearts and souls into making this the best it can be, and it’s time well spent. But as soon as you stop, once you reach the end (show’s open, baby’s born), the experience starts melting away. And you can’t put it back, because that’s not the direction nature flows. I’m not wishing to reverse course (Maegan certainly wouldn’t forgive me for that). I just wish we all had more time to enjoy each other’s company, to make beautiful things together, to just sit and watch the others in your life. And not just to watch, but to see.
The ice melts, becomes water, and is ready for the next sculpture. I intend to see as much I can.