Living Monologues | Dee
Photo by giano currie on Unsplash
This monologue is pure fiction and part of my ongoing Living Monologues Series that explores who we are beneath our words.
As usual, you just have to ruin a celebration, don’t you? Ok. I guess we’re doing this right here.
I need you to understand that there are two things that are most true about me, Auntie: One is that I’ve never craved anything more than your approval. Even above my own mother’s. Crazy, isn’t it? But I never had to guess where she stood. For you, though, I had to grovel, didn’t I? Anybody who wanted to love you or be loved by you had to fight a war they never signed up for.
My fourth grade winter concert. You remember that? My class performed to a Beatles song and we brought the house down. My first standing ovation. And even more than the pure electricity of being up there on stage, spinning and singing under all those colorful lights, what I remember most vividly, permanently branded into my brain, is the scowl on your face when I came down. You were irate because I performed a secular song. And what did you say? Something like “God ain’t in that music you was up there gyratin’ to. Mona, you lettin’ your daughter up there sing the devil’s music?” You knocked the wind out of my sails. And everything was a fog after that. I couldn’t accept anyone else’s praise because you withheld yours.
You made me believe there was something wrong with me. That my gift made me defective. That the thing God pressure cooked inside me like a diamond, put me squarely outside of His will. And the whole time I was just searching for the slightest hope that you thought I was just...good. You made me second-guess the one thing that makes me know how real God is. You made me so unsure about myself.
You know the second truest thing about me, Auntie? Broadway was always my destination, from the day Mom showed me The Sound of Music on tape. I’ve been crawling, walking, running, dancing toward Broadway ever since, come hell or high water. Do you know what that’s like? To crave a place you’ve never been but you know so well? You feel everything about it in your own pulse and in your walk.
And I’m finally here. I’m in a Broadway show, Auntie! I’m the star! Your niece, Delia Amaris Morgan is top billed and you can’t form your lips to congratulate me even once? You can’t wish me well? All you’ve done is come to my celebration late, insult the food and insinuate that I’ve...what did you say, “left God”?
I didn’t leave God, Auntie. I’ve found Him in a deeper way than I ever could have if I’d let you talk me out of this. God’s in this gift I’ve had since I was a kid. He’s in every note I sing and every step I dance. He’s in every prayer we pray before those curtains open and every breath of gratitude I breathe when the house lights come up. And He’s in every moment I decide to be the polar opposite of what you’ve been. Loving. Alive. Open. Free.
So, I’m sorry this is too much for you. I really am. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.
Actually, let me reposition that with all due respect. If you can’t celebrate with me like everyone else here then I will have the servers pack you a doggy bag, I’ll call you a car and then you can get the absolute and entire fuck out.