Second Act: Playing a New Part - Joel

I crouched down on the floor at Dance New Amsterdam's black box theater, gazing up at the dimmed fresnel lights hanging from the rafters. The curtains were tied back, revealing the large, empty arena where only an hour before dancers had swept its floor with their feet. The seats were empty but I could still feel the warmth of the audience's energy.


I always feel at home in theaters.

Joel was waiting for me in the lobby talking with some of our mutual friends. It took me a few minutes to remind myself that tonight, Joel was not just someone I had known for a year. Instead, he was the man who was going out of his way to pay attention to me for the evening. I felt awkward as our friends watched us pair off, finding our way toward the back of the theater to create our own space.

It was apparent that our challenge would be to break out of our typical roles.
Quite refreshing for two people who love the theatre and like each other.

The show was one I had known about since its development. The choreographer is a very good friend of mine, as are some of the dancers.
I happen to love modern art in all of its forms. Years ago I didn't really understand it, and then I came to the conclusion that modern art had less to do with understanding its meaning and more to do with understanding what it meant to you.
I like the way it makes me feel.

The movement of Rebecca's show, "Rush Reflecting," reminded me of the freedom within each of us that we sometimes forget to release. The all-female troupe's syncopated struts and sometimes synchronized flow resonated the empowerment and beauty of women who work together to make something simple, grand. The calculated chaotic movements reminded me of life's bumpy journeys.
I felt refreshed.

Joel and I stayed for the reception after the show and chatted with our friends. We were coupled in comfort.

We stepped out into the frigid night air and took a walk.

City Hall was lit up and I excitedly took my brand new camera out of my purse to take a picture.
We then headed toward the river and took a stroll across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Joel, playing the proper role of gentleman, asked if I were warm enough to stay outside. I, in the part of the typically chilly girl who was welcoming a kind suitor, said I didn't mind.
The temperature on the WatchTower read eight degrees.

We caught up on what we'd been up to over the past few months. He told me about his newest projects, plays, and philosophies. I told him about my latest dreams and ideas.

There were no scripts. No longer the feel of our friends as an audience.
It was just us, enjoying the company of our truest selves.