Day Three: The Star
Dec. 3rd, 2003 12:05 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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just_writingThe Star represents hope, peace and continuity - fluid thought - intuition.
When I was seven, I took part in my school’s nativity play. There were far more children that there were significant parts, but I escaped the indignity of being a sheep. Instead I was to play the Star of Bethleham, suspended over the stable, guiding the three kings to the birthplace of the baby Jesus.
My lines were few, my costume tinfoil; my mother carefully gluing strips of it to an old white shirt that belonged to my father, checking with him which one it was permissible to use.
The opening night I stood on the chair on the table that was the heavens and I folded my arms until it was my turn to shine. I could see my mother in the audience and the empty seat next to her. My father was a very busy man.
The play continued and each set of parents applauded as my school friends stepped forwards to say their lines. Then, just as the three kings spoke to Herod of a star in the east, I saw my father appear at the back of the hall. He was obviously unwell, swaying off balance and shouting though I could not tell what he was saying. My mother left her seat and ran to him and he obviously must have fell against her because as she approached him she fell over and he was reaching out to her.
The spotlight shone in my face and I could not see through the tears that the sudden bright light brought.
I said my lines and stretched my arms out wide and stayed at Billy Smith’s house that evening.
When I was seven, I took part in my school’s nativity play. There were far more children that there were significant parts, but I escaped the indignity of being a sheep. Instead I was to play the Star of Bethleham, suspended over the stable, guiding the three kings to the birthplace of the baby Jesus.
My lines were few, my costume tinfoil; my mother carefully gluing strips of it to an old white shirt that belonged to my father, checking with him which one it was permissible to use.
The opening night I stood on the chair on the table that was the heavens and I folded my arms until it was my turn to shine. I could see my mother in the audience and the empty seat next to her. My father was a very busy man.
The play continued and each set of parents applauded as my school friends stepped forwards to say their lines. Then, just as the three kings spoke to Herod of a star in the east, I saw my father appear at the back of the hall. He was obviously unwell, swaying off balance and shouting though I could not tell what he was saying. My mother left her seat and ran to him and he obviously must have fell against her because as she approached him she fell over and he was reaching out to her.
The spotlight shone in my face and I could not see through the tears that the sudden bright light brought.
I said my lines and stretched my arms out wide and stayed at Billy Smith’s house that evening.
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