Nostalgia

Oh, I'd love it when the moon was bright, you know, shining on the rug. God, the size of the roses in that rug! Still were those roses in your mom's and my bedroom when we sold the house. You older ones must remember when we had those roses in every room. How big would you say those roses were? A yard wide? At least a yard wide, yellow, red, and blue roses in every room of the house. You know how she got that rug? Do you remember the RKO Casino on Woodward? When they closed it down there was a tag sale and Lucille bought all the rugging. She intended to just cut a little piece out for our bedroom, but they delivered the whole rug from the whole theater, over a thousand yards. The parish got some and the synagogue got some, and even the Nicholsons next door had those roses in their living room, still do--those rugs were made to be walked on! I never said it, but I loved having those big flowers all over our floors. We even had a piece in the kitchen under the sink. Loved it when the moon came through the windows at night because it made the roses change to white, bright white and dark white, and it reminded me of something--I can't explain--like a poem. My house was a poem and we'd sleep every night on top of giant white roses, and I'd lay back and sip my tea and feel the moon takin' care of us, and I'd listen to the breathing of my kids any my wife, all that breath going in and out, and I'd open the windows to let in some of that cool blue air, and I'd imagine it going into your lungs, into your bloodstreams--the air of God, the air of the universe, sneakin' into our house on Dartmouth drive and--takin' care of us. So glad I couldn't see the future them nights. Glad I was able to have hop, glad I couldn't imagine this cold place. I couldn't foresee anything to hurt us.

--Pop, Reindeer Soup, end of Act I

Reindeer Soup wasn't my first play, or my favorite play, or the play where I bonded the most with the cast, or the play where I felt I did the best job. So why do I miss it so much?