{"id":2989,"date":"2014-01-02T22:38:21","date_gmt":"2014-01-03T03:38:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katrinakenison.com\/?p=2989"},"modified":"2014-01-02T22:38:21","modified_gmt":"2014-01-03T03:38:21","slug":"full-circle","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/full-circle\/","title":{"rendered":"Full circle"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"HenryT<\/span>imes Square, New York City, early on a Sunday morning, summer 1996. \u00a0The day before, we’d taken our son Henry, age six, to see his first musical, Beauty & the Beast<\/strong>, on Broadway. \u00a0A friend working on the show had reserved our seats, front and center, and had arranged a backstage tour after the final curtain. \u00a0Henry had been allowed to walk around on the set. \u00a0He’d touched the teacups and candlesticks and glimpsed the piano gleaming in the orchestra pit. \u00a0He’d shaken hands with the Beast himself, who had been kind and friendly to this scrawny little kid who knew every song in the show by heart. \u00a0And now, the next morning, all Henry wanted was to go back and do it all over again.<\/p>\n

My husband snapped the photo because it was so not<\/em> like our shy, mild-mannered son to be demanding. \u00a0And it was so not<\/em> like me to ever speak sternly to him. \u00a0And yet, there we were, facing off in the first (and pretty much the only) argument we’ve ever had. (There is another photo in this series, in which I’m actually shaking a finger, in vain.)<\/p>\n

I think the whole scene cracked Steve up — while the rest of Manhattan slept, the three of us were out on a street corner trying to explain to our star-struck child that \u00a0Broadway shows aren’t like videos, and that you can’t just wander in and watch them whenever you want to.<\/p>\n

What we didn’t quite realize, as Henry stood his ground, insisting he would<\/strong><\/em> \u00a0go back to Broadway, was that a dream was taking shape in his six-year-old mind. \u00a0Now that he knew this magical place existed, where musicals came to life every night in darkened theaters, he suddenly had a vision of his own future, an answer to the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”<\/p>\n

\"h'sT<\/span>he dream stuck. \u00a0He’s twenty-four now, and he’s stayed the course. \u00a0Played a lot of piano. \u00a0Applied for a lot of jobs. \u00a0Gotten a few. \u00a0Come in second too many times. \u00a0But late on Monday night, the call he’s been waiting for all his life finally came. \u00a0And since I’m his mom, and therefore have never doubted, I wasn’t all that surprised. \u00a0But I am incredibly proud to say our son has finally come full circle. \u00a0Next job: \u00a0music production assistant for Aladdin<\/strong> on Broadway.<\/p>\n

Tonight, as I was making dinner, Henry sat at the piano in our living room, playing Gershwin. \u00a0It’s been snowing all day, and the snow is still coming down, closing us in here with one another. \u00a0Jack, recovering from the removal of two wisdom teeth first thing this morning, is laying low, applying ice, reading a Stephen King novel. \u00a0We watched a movie this afternoon, drank tea, looked at all our old photo albums, hung out and let time slow down. \u00a0 As I type these words, the guys are watching basketball in the other room with a friend, eating ice cream and making a racket. \u00a0Soon our sons will leave, and it will be just the two of us here again. \u00a0I know I’ll miss the noise, the crowd around the dinner table, the lovely sense of security and connectedness I \u00a0feel only when we are all gathered together under one roof.<\/p>\n

And yet, knowing that the house will soon be quiet again, and too empty, I also think of a line I’ve always loved: \u00a0“There are two lasting bequests we can give our children: one is roots; the other, wings.” \u00a0And I am here to say, there is nothing more thrilling than bearing witness to their flight.<\/p>\n

(I had planned to write something this week about the\u00a0forthcoming paperback of<\/strong>\u00a0<\/a>Magical Journey<\/strong><\/a>\u00a0—\u00a0<\/strong><\/em>pub date: January 21<\/strong>. \u00a0But, well, Henry’s news is more exciting than mine. \u00a0Lots to tell you about next time, though.)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Times Square, New York City, early on a Sunday morning, summer 1996. \u00a0The day before, we’d taken our son Henry, age six, to see his first musical, Beauty & the Beast, on Broadway. \u00a0A friend working on the show had reserved our seats, front and center, and had arranged a backstage tour after the final […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":15183,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[8,11],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-2989","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-parenting","8":"category-parenting-young-adults","9":"entry"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/600x600.png?fit=600%2C600","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2989","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2989"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2989\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15183"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2989"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2989"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2989"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}