You see, Annie was the first musical my mom took me to. I remember feeling like such a big girl getting to dress up and go out in the evening, a time usually reserved for her and my dad to go on a date. I wore a dress and felt so very pretty. I can still see the outside of the building as were walking across the downtown Kansas City streets, the word Annie exploding in lights on the marquee.
People were huddled everywhere, talking and laughing. Each one smiling and looking forward to the performance we were about to witness. Many were watching my mom and me as we walked up to the ticket counter but I wasn't sure why. My velvet dress was swaying softly with the wind and I felt bold in the energy of being seen. The lady behind the counter winked at me and I was filled with an excitement that I could not explain, almost like I was being exposed to something magical.
When we entered through the beautiful double doors I was enthralled by the architecture of the theater. It had an elaborate vine pattern carpet throughout, chandeliers every few feet and an old time looking bar where adults stood talking and sipping their wine.
In that moment I was hooked.
Everything about those adults was what I imagined for my life. Their beautiful dresses, handsome men and wine in hand, I wanted to be them. Even though I was young enough to still be holding my mother's hand, I knew for sure that this was how I saw my future life. No matter their hardship, sadness or weaknesses apart from that evening everyone was happy and relaxed. I went to bed that night with a smile on my face thinking today was a good day.
I have enjoyed an amazing amount of theater since that night. Chris and I have seen shows in New York, Chicago, Kansas City, Virginia and London. We have been "those adults" many nights over and it never loses its spark with me. The music always transports me to a place beyond myself that
is able to alter any outside interference into a peace where I can say, "Today is a good day for a good day" and it all returns to Annie.
There my son and I were enjoying a good rendition of "Hard Knock Life" when I started to hear a distinct bell ringing. It somewhat resembled the microwave timer but with a higher pitched tone. Immediately I paused the movie in an effort to locate the source of this annoying ding.
But Carter didn't hear it.
Unfazed I started walking around the house holding my ear close to every electronic device we owned. Microwave, computer, phone, Xbox, Wii U, and anything remotely motorized in the kids playroom but everything came up quiet.
Still Carter didn't hear it.
I removed my hearing aids. The ringing continued and the volume never changed.
I put my hands over my ears. The ringing continued and the volume never changed.
I pushed my ear drums closed. The ringing continued and the volume never changed.
At this point Carter was getting a little bit concerned thinking that I heard an actual noise and that I was scared by it. But how do you explain to your 10 year old that your ears can't be trusted? He began to get nervous that someone was in the house.
"It's just something that only I hear." He looked at me and shrugged. (Kind of anticlimactic huh?) Well I have learned not to try and predict a 10 year old's reaction. Ha!
We resumed the movie and about an hour later it went away but returned the very next day.
It rattles me to be sure. I don't know what is causing the new sound in the absence of my sounds but it is more annoying than the steady hum of locusts that I have grown used to hearing. This little ding ding ding makes me stop and look around for a source each time it decides to surface.
But the bells - ah the bells tolling is such a significant part of so many things:
The passing of time
A fulfilled order
I have decided to make my bells a reminder. You know, like the little red string you used to tie to your finger before smart phones were invented.
A reminder that when they chime I need to take a pause no matter what is going on. To pause and say, "Today is a Good Day for a Good Day."
Each stepping stone can become an opportunity.
Until the bell tolls..."Today is a Good Day for a Good Day."