Honestly?Same, kid.Same.
She pretends she’s not excited, but I’ve seen the way she practices in the mirror, the little smile she tries to hide when she nails a line.
She’s been humming the background music nonstop, tapping her fingers on the table in rhythm until Mom threatens to confiscate the salt shaker she’s using as a makeshift microphone.
And then the drama department went and upped the emotional stakes.
Originally, the show was supposed to be a one-and-done performance on Friday night.
Nice and manageable for middle school attention spans.
But apparently the principal saw a rehearsal and declared ittoo impressive not to share.
So now it’s a three-night marathon—Friday, Saturday matinee, and Sunday afternoon.
Because nothing builds character like wrangling tweens into Shakespeare all weekend long.
I’m thrilled, though.Truly.
The concept is clever as hell.
It’s Shakespeare’sThe Tempestbut set in a modern middle school.
Magic swapped for malfunctioning electronics.
Monsters replaced by mean girls.
And Prospero?Now a burnt-out science teacher on the verge of early retirement.
Only Hammonton Middle would look at Shakespeare and say,“You know what this needs?Smartphones and cafeteria drama.”
But honestly, what I’ve seen so far really works.
Bella plays one of the spirits who controls the school’s lighting system—basically an excuse for them to run around in hoodies with glow-in-the-dark face paint.
She’s been practicing her choreography in the living room, tripping over the coffee table and insisting it’s part of the artistic process.
I smile just thinking about it.
She’s growing into herself bit by bit.
Finding her voice.
Her confidence.
Part of me aches wishing Bonnie could see her.
Part of me swells knowing she’d be so damn proud.
And as the week rolls on—busy but ordinary—I let myself believe that maybe life is settling into a really good rhythm again.
Steady.Predictable.
Safe.
At least until Friday night.
Because that’s when I’ll meet Justin at the play.
