I missed blogging yesterday. I would feel bad about it, but I was crossing something off my bucket list. I was in Chicago at Hamilton.
|My 40th birthday, the morning I received |
Hamilton tickets. Best. Present. Ever.
And last night was the night. We arrived in Chicago late yesterday morning. We checked into our hotel, the Silversmith, which was charming and perfect (there was a window seat! I've always loved window seats!) . Our dentist had recommended trying Lou Malnati's pizza while we were in town, so we headed eight blocks for some deep dish (I gave us dispensation for our Lenten sacrifice of pizza. I mean, c'mon. We were in Chicago. Jesus gets it.)
We meandered back to the hotel where I took a nap. If you read my earlier blog post about naps, you know that this was a perfect way to spend my holiday.
Then we headed back out. We had dinner and drinks and then headed to the theater. It was a packed house and the excitement thrummed. As the lights went down, I squeezed Greg's leg. With the first note, I choked up. It was perfect.
And I didn't stop feeling enthralled and joyful and captivated for the entirety of the show. You know how sometimes you're so excited for something, and you build it up in your mind and then when you actually go through it, it's never as great as you imagined? This was the opposite. This experience exceeded every expectation.
Like so many people, I've been listening to the cast recording for more than a year and know all the words. My kids have a favorite ("My Shot"). I watched the PBS Special. I devour every little clip of Lin-Manuel. Going into this show, I felt like I knew it. But seeing the stage, and the role of the lighting (the lighting felt like a cast member!) and seeing the actor's expressions all elevated the experience. It was holy.
And of course, all I can think is how lucky I am to be alive right now.