Dang that woman puts this thirty-two year old to shame.
There she is, 75 years old, two fake knees, three-inch heels and still owning the stage like she did 53 years ago when she originated the role of Anita in West Side Story on Broadway.
I left Miss Q sleeping at home…in the capable hands of her father, two brothers and a few other blokes, three of whom are members of the Australian Special Forces.
She was very well guarded. Nothing but Australia’s elite to protect my girl.
I went with my mum and it was so precious to sit there, holding her hand, whispering reminisces about my little New York in her ear and hoping I’ll be able to share similar things with my little girl.
I used to watch performers on stage with a wretched mix of envy and a sense of belonging.
Wanting to be up there, knowing what it feels like, yearning to be a part of their journey, while thanking them for letting me in just the same.
That feeling has changed now.
Oh, I still get that secret smile as I recall the headiness of it all (the adrenalin, the costumes, the makeup, the applause at the end of your number, the post show parties…) but it’s not as desperate as it once was. It’s not as essential. It’s certainly not as painful.
Chita sang one song called where are you going now.
And it struck me that while I still don’t know quite where I’m going, at least now I know who I’m going there with.