a bunch of my friends and i went to see The Vagina Monologues performed at uconn health center in farmington. if it seems like an odd place and a strange venue, at least, as i said to one friend - the hospital's full of people who are comfortable saying and hearing the word "vagina."
but to tell you the truth, although i had wanted to see the show in a vague sort of way for quite a while now, the reason i went to see this particular version was at the urging of a ghost.
one of the ladies - a member of one of my writing circles - lost her father last summer. although nearly a year has gone by, my sense is that for this young woman, her father was as much her daddy as mine is to me. at our last gathering, i happened to be sitting next to her, and i could feel his presence quite strongly.
tell her im here, he kept insisting, giving me energetic pokes that feel a little bit like tiny electric shocks delivered directly to the marrow of one's bones.
but i don't do that. not everyone is open to spirits, not everyone welcomes a stranger into their emotional and spiritual lives. plus, the meeting was about writing. it would've been rude to interrupt the group.
you have to get her to ask me, i said silently to sara's daddy.
then the subject of the play came up - in which sara was performing - and i could feel how much he wanted his daughter to know he'd be there, how desperately he himself wanted to be there. i could feel how proud he was of her acting ability, how proud he was of her accomplishments in general, and how much he wanted everyone to appreciate his beautiful, talented, intelligent daughter.
i felt another one of those little pokes and the next thing i knew i was blurting out: "let's all go see the show!"
so seven of us did.
and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.