Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Pass the Kleenex, please

Number of times I've seen/photographed "The Secret Garden" in the past three weeks? 16
Number of times the scene where Colin gets out of his wheelchair and walks again has made me cry? 16
Number of performances/dress rehearsals left: 4
Number of times I expect to weep behind my camera body: 4

It's not that just that the children are so earnest and committed, although they are, which tends to make me well up anyway, or that they're all that age where some of them still have mild speech impediments that fade with maturity, although lots of them do.

"The gawden is a secwet, Dicken." "Might I have a bit of earff?" Just twy, Colin! I know you can do it!" It's not even that the smell of grey hair dye in a aerosol makes me feel about 9, even as I sprout actual grey hairs with every new production.

The real reason that the scene always makes me cry is because it plays out a modified version of every wish I've made over every birthday cake since I was five. Fuck off, muscular dystrophy.

ADDED TO SAY: I've discovered an antidote to the tears- if the young actor does a painful, painful Cockney accent. Evaporates 'em every time.

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