The hour before the curtain goes up is one of my favorites. The kids are pumped about getting their make up right, and their costumes just so. There is music playing and everyone is in sync. If there are cliques I see no evidence. The energy crescendos as ordinary teenagers are transformed into royalty, fairy tale creatures, knights of the castle. 

One night I was sitting on the couch, waiting for wardrobe emergencies, and a guard stood next to me. The room is after all rather crowded. I knew her name, having created her outfit but had never spoken to her. I was pretty sure she is an international student. 

"Are you enjoying being in the show?" 

We chatted about how it feels to be on stage, and I asked if her parents were coming. 

"China is pretty far."

I launched into the predictable questions, about the city she lives in, the landscape, the food. 

"Some people eat insects. And those things, I'm not sure what you call them, they have tails. They are poisonous."

"Scorpions?!" 

Our conversation was cut short when the time came for warm ups. I thanked her. The next day it so happened I gave her a ride to a school event and it was nice to know a little about her as she climbed into the third seat. 

Last month a friend told me about a family event she attended. There were people there who long ago ran out of things to say to one another. She noticed three of them standing shoulder to shoulder stiffly. Blood relatives all, but silent as the guards at Buckingham Palace. 

"It seemed like a missed opportunity," my friend said. Hurt feelings from a decade ago keep them as far apart as an ocean. I hugged her, and felt grateful that some people are brave enough to leave their world to enrich mine.