A Rose

It was theatre night, last night.

Daughter'd had a tough day. Late for work, she backed into her brother-in-law's car. $800 damage to her back bumper, paint on his. Roll-over accident and backed-up traffic, later for work.

Anyway, she called just as I got picked-up after work.

"Can you come pick me up?"

We drove down to her house, took her up to the U so she could have dinner with her hubby. Met her again in the theatre lobby: she needed a benadryl, was reacting to something she ate.

We had tickets for the evening's performance of "The Slipper and the Rose". She works on the tech crew there. One of the "people in black". I never saw her during the performance. She's good: single-minded; efficient.

When the performance was done we waited while she helped put the pumpkin carriage away. Traffic had thinned, so waiting was good. She told her hubby that she wouldn't be out too late, so we went to Denny's to wind-down after the performance. Hot chocolate, a milk shake, mozzarella cheese sticks, water. The waiter wasn't impressed, happier he got a tip, though.

They talked of haircuts, family, affairs, cast and crew. I mostly listened, contentedly weary. The play was well-done: theatre in the round, wonderfully staged. It brought back memories of that mid-70's musical.

We got her home by 10:30 pm.

Our day didn't end until we got home 45 minutes later.

Besides the wonderful evening, the day had been bright. I found that the U had scanned all available issues of "The Progress" through 1939! Their scans were better and easier to use than the ones I'd made of the 1894, 1895 issues. I happily began copying the documents for my use at home, later: obituaries, marriages, deaths, sickness, accidents, anniversaries, celebrations. All that stuff adds deeper color to the picture of people I love.

I went to bed full of thanks for the joys of the day.