Years and years ago, I saw a show with foul-mouthed puppets, improvising their way through comedy skits and adventures.
I was charmed.
Completely, utterly charmed.
I promised myself I would go again, but then life happened, and kept happening.
The show came to my area again and I told myself I would go again, as soon as things were back to normal. As soon as I wasn't fighting a criminal case.
The show came to my area again, and I heard about it while I was in prison. I told myself I could go again and soon as things were back to normal. As soon as I was home.
The show came to my area again, and I told myself I could go again when things were back to normal. When I had come to grips with the idea that half of the group I went with last time had died since then. When it was an easy financial decision. When I had someone to take with me.
The show is back for a few days this month, and I thought about going, but realized I am not there yet. Even though some days I feel really close to it, everything still isn't back to normal.
Things might never be puppet-normal again.
It's just a silly show.
I know.
And even if I went, I would not be the same woman who went so many years ago... and maybe that's the saddest part of it all.
