To anyone who knows me, it’s no secret that I miss my kid on a daily basis. She’s all grown up, a college graduate and living the dream in New York City – or at least working her way toward the dream. No one said a career in musical theatre would be easy. There are days I can’t quite believe this smart, talented, confident, adventurous, amazing young woman is the sweet curly-haired little girl who used to call herself “Heeyah.”
So yeah, I miss her. All. The. Time. In addition to being my kid, she’s just a really cool person. I was thrilled – like dancing around the house thrilled – when we figured out a way for her and her boyfriend (who’s visiting from the United Kingdom) to hop on a plane and spend a few days with us at home. I know she has plenty of trying days surviving in the Big Apple. It’s hot. It’s crowded. She doesn’t have air conditioning and everything is expensive. The subway can be a challenge (though I think it’s giving her great material should she ever want to do comedy) and the audition circuit is brutal. Oh yeah, and her boyfriend lives on another continent.
Once I knew her boyfriend was coming to visit her, I figured that’s all it would take to make her really happy. Imagine my surprise when she was as excited as I was once we arranged a visit for a few days back home. Suddenly her texts and emails all started coming in uppercase: “THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!” and “OMG! I’M SO EXCITED.” Who knew? She misses home as much as home misses her.