It's moments like these:
At some venue, I'll be in the crowd when we're all singing the Star Spangled Banner. Something inside of me clicks and that "one nation under God" feeling kicks in and draws out that tight throat, gonna cry, feeling. Weird.
Once, I was on my treadmill preparing for, what to me, was a lengthy race. I was struggling to hit my mileage goal and so I tried to picture myself coming around the corner into the stadium with all of the crowd cheering and seeing the finish line ahead. Nothing feels sillier than to find yourself running alone on a treadmill psyched out with tears welling up because you mentally convinced yourself to reach your end goal.
I recently watched Celia run the 4 woman relay in track and as she pumped her way around the track trying desperately to make up ground for her team, I got that same ball of emotion watching her work so very hard.
That said, this weekend was ballet recital weekend. Having a dance background myself, I do so love going to watch Annie dance. She's so much better than I ever was at that age.
I thoroughly enjoyed the rehearsal the evening before the recital, and that's saying a lot. Those things are usually painful. But this time was different. The line up of dances were run through like clock work to smooth out any kinks. I kept an eye on the program, watching for Annie's number.
One dance to go before my girl's ... the lights came up and in center stage stood an approximately twelve year old girl with Downs Syndrome, beautifully clad in white leotard and skirt. The music began and she danced her heart out. At it's close, she continually curtsied and curtsied and I cried great elephant tears. So much so, I couldn't even pull it together enough to enjoy my own daughter's dance to follow. It was just one of those moments for me.
Thank goodness for recital rehearsals because at today's show, I was better able to hold myself together. Maybe it was knowing what to expect. Maybe it was wrestling bored-with-ballet Eliza, or my slight irritation at too many teen "pole dancing" numbers squeezed in between classical ballet. But I held it together until the end, ... and then I cried right through Annie's Tarantella because I couldn't believe how hard these girls work.
Emotional response always catches me by surprise, but I'm starting to realize it's brought on by anything awe inspiring. Namely, observing individuals reach their full potential after much struggle. I'm a mess, I know. But today was a day I felt privileged to be a part of.