Last time, it was the First

Tomorrow morning marks the last step on the long, stressful path to the pinnacle of the Broadway season. If I had been able to wrap my head around what exactly has been going on in my life the last year and a half, this post would be a lot more articulate. I'm not exactly sure what has gotten me here exactly, so quickly. But what I do know is that this has been a year of big career firsts for me.

So I sit in my chair at work and read everything in the NY Times theatre section, and broadway.com, and broadwayworld.com, and Playbill and the NY Post and and and, and all of a sudden - unlike it has been all through my life up until now - I am not reading about strangers and places and people and things that don't seem to exist because they are so far off, but I am reading about my peers.

This year, my peers have been nominated for Lortel Awards, Drama League Awards, OCC Awards, Drama Desk awards. They have won. Best musical. Outstanding performance. And this year, a peer might be nominated for a Tony Award.

Something is churning within me, some sort of pride and excitement and joy that I have never felt before. My friends are with me, almost more excited than me.
"How many times are you going to go to the Tonys?!" they asked when I was out dress shopping every free moment a week ago.
"Well, many," I replied, "That's the plan!"
"But nothing compares to the first time!" they say, and all my co-workers say the same.

The first time. Everyone remembers it. The first time someone you know wins Best Musical. The first time someone you know brings the house down. The first time someone you know, someone your age, someone you've seen trot along this crazy path called Showbusiness get nominated for the biggest award there is.

Not to jinx it. It's just the first time. It won't be the last.

So I try to keep my mouth shut about it, because tomorrow morning, if they open their mouths and say her name then it's real. It's real and I will cry. And I will cry because it's the beginning. These dreams are coming true.

The first time, and I know it wont be the last.

Today I placed my hand on the shoulder of a man who I respect and adore deeper than most people in this business. He turned, looked at me and wrapped his arms around me in a big bear hug. Tony award winner. "Fingers crossed" he said to me today, "that in two years I'll be back again." Growing up I ate brownies around a table in a house - a house like my second home - across from a man who read the New York Times and talked boldly about the arts and politics. Tony Award winner.

And then you grow up, step away from the brownies, pull away from the hugs, and find that you're next. This is Your time. It's starting to happen. And it's only just the first time.