Connections

      This weekend my husband and I got a dose of much needed culture sprinkled with a little one-on-one time (don't ask- we are WAY too caught up in  everyday craziness) and caught a matinee in San Francisco of Aaron Sorkin's Broadway acclaimed adaption of To Kill A Mockingbird. 

   There is absolutely nothing like the experience of art.  However, I must confess a pattern I've discovered in my life.  The pattern is that every time my husband and I finally make time for art, enjoy it, and acknowledge its' absence, we then find ourselves solemnly promising ourselves that this is never happening again. And then inevitably the cycle just repeats itself. (Oops, I digress.)

     The play was phenomenal, the set was unbelievable, and the actors just shone. Like any piece of art it's universality with the world, and especially today's mindset were not lost on me.

     However, the part when Scout "outs," Mr. Cunningham in the scene by the jail cut to my very core. I found myself squeezing my eyes trying to fight back a few tears. Immediately, I connected with this very emotional part of the play but also connected to my own life. I knew at that very moment why I love kids. I love kids because they have that power. They cut through the nonsense, the hate, the stupid adult mistakes, and those unforgivable behaviors. Children cut a path through the field ahead for us that many choose not to follow.