The twins are in a production of Charlie Brown Christmas in December. I have purchased tickets to all three performances, and will ignore all distractions to be there cheering. It is not their first time on stage, or even the first time with dialogue. Once Aurelle was a tentacle in Little Mermaid, and Hope was a villager in Beauty in the Beast. 

Still this begins their high school experience of theater, and all of the emotions that go with it. A month ago they started learning how to roller skate, in preparation for the scene on the frozen pond. I asked about it last night, and they are getting the hang of it.

"Plastic wheels are terrible. They slip. Rubber wheels are great. I hope I get skates with rubber wheels."

Then they had more to say.

"The play is a mess. The dance floor cracked and when we told the producer he thought we were exaggerating and got mad. Four kids were sick, and since my lines are intertwined with theirs it was hard to remember my queues. We tripped all over the props, because it is dark during scene changes, and we are still learning where they are. It's hard to believe we will be ready in time."

While I am not entrenched in the world of acting, the theme sounded familiar. Directors have moaned to me a few days before opening night about the chaos that seems to be an inevitable part of the process. Then Hope smiled. 

"But they used the snow machine for the first time last night. It was beautiful!"

I was not even there and I felt close to tears. My girls and their friends will be under the snowfall, singing. And I get to listen three times. 

Marriage is often a mess somewhere in the middle. We only know half our lines, and keep tripping over anger. Plans break apart, and we take it personally. 

Yet sometimes, near the end, we find ourselves hand in hand, and we know the tune enough to join in.