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I was twenty-one and sobbed after reading Thornton Wilder’s play, Our Town. It’s about Emily, a young woman who dies in childbirth and is allowed to go back and relive one day of her life. She chooses her twelfth birthday.

Her fellow dead citizens in the town’s cemetery warn her not to go. It’s never a good idea to return, they say. Emily disregards this advice and stands watching her twelve year-old self back in her childhood kitchen, chatting happily with her parents who bestow their modest birthday gifts.

The scene becomes so poignant as Emily watches herself from the future, she begs to go back among the dead who nod in understanding.  “The living don’t know,” they tell her.

Those words still haunt me.

So many of us, myself included, trundle through our days head down, checking off to-do lists, gabbing on cell phones, shaking our heads at the person driving too slow ahead of us.

We’re trained to believe happiness is in peak moments – graduations, weddings, parties, promotions, and of course there’s much to be celebrated there.

But as I’ve grown older, I see how joy is really in small things — the laughter of family around the dinner table, the smile of a stranger, sunsets, lunch with friends, a cat sleeping in the sun, the jingle of snow plows on a winter morning, the first crocus in March.

Thornton Wilder was right.  Most of us lack the perspective to appreciate what we have when we have it. That kind of insight only comes in glimpses. It only comes with distance. Maybe it only comes in death.

After reading Our Town that afternoon so long ago, I wiped my tears and came downstairs to the smell of a Sunday roast in the oven.  My father and little brother were watching football in the living room. My younger sister was with her friends, laughing over some joke in a magazine.

I came to the kitchen to find my mother in her apron, stirring gravy in a pan.

“Dinner’s soon,” she said. “Can you set the table?” She noticed my face, eyes still red from crying. “Are you okay?” she asked. At that moment, I felt like Emily, seeing my life for the first time, in all its simple beauty.

We were together. We were a family. We were all happy and healthy. But unlike Emily, I was still here. I could still hug my mother.

And I could still look at her, smile, and say, “Yes, I’m fine.”

 

Have you seen Our Town?  Comments are always welcome and if you like, please share.  Thank you!

Comments(28)

    • Lea

    • 10 years ago

    Hi Laurie,

    I was so moved by that scene in "Our Town" myself. When Casey was involved in theater, she played in several performances of the play. I was always grateful for its reminder, and like you, the fact that it wasn't too late. I could renew my attention to life's small beauties and blessings, hug those I love, and let them know just how much. XXOO

  1. So true, Lea.

  2. This made me cry…you are so right, we don’t realize what we have until we don’t ..

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Hellion, This is the kind of thing that gets most of us where we live. As humans, there’s a part of us that really understands this crucial lesson, even though its hard to hold close all the time.

  3. Life is lived in between the big moments. We do most of our living in between the weddings and births and deaths.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Jennifer, So true! Sometimes I think we understand that more as we get older. When young, we’re always hurrying toward the next “big thing.”

  4. Beautiful post! I’ve seen the play yet can’t remember if I read the book. A powerful message about appreciating each day and the people in our lives whether near or far.
    http://www.meinthemiddlewrites.com

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Mary Lou, Thanks so much. The play really affected me, especially at a young age. So glad you like it too.

  5. When I read it in HS I cried too! Good reminder

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Haralee, Didn’t you find yourself looking at everything with fresh eyes? Maybe the feeling didn’t last (I suppose, it can’t), but not every piece of art can claim that.

  6. I am embarrassed to say that somehow through school and college and reading all the time(!) I never read Our Town. BUT I bought it the other day at Barnes & Noble on the “required reading” table. Can’t wait to read it. I do a book review blog post each month (classics, new, local, non-fiction, etc) and I hope to include this in August’s books.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Tayla, I’ll be interested to hear what you think. I think the message is timeless and something every generation can relate to.

  7. I have a long connection with this play. My father directed it long ago, and my sister, mom, and I were in the wedding scene. The morning of my wedding, my dad and I read the scene where Emily has the pre-wedding jitters. Years later, my son played Emily’s brother Wally, who dies from a burst appendix. The director had him sit with the others in the cemetery scene. Talk about tears! I’ve seen the show many times over the years. The last time was with my sister. It was the last play we saw together. She died months later of lung cancer. So when anyone mentions “Our Town,” I am flooded with these family memories. A good reminder to pay attention to our everyday lives. Thanks for posting.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Risa, Wow! Amazed at your family connection to this play. How cool your father directed it and how tragic about your poor sister. I’m so sorry. I can see how this work must affect you on many levels.

  8. A beautiful written story with a message we all need to be reminded of. Yes, I find that when we are young, we rush through every day in pursuit of that big moment that will bring us happiness. True happiness is found in everything – the moment – and you have captured that wonderfully in this post.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Kate, Thanks so much. I agree, when we’re older, we’re more tuned into the big moments. As we get older, we see how life is really lived in the small, day to day places.

  9. What a touching post, Laurie. Joy really is found in the small things and everyday moments we so often take for granted. Thanks for a poignant reminder to savor it all.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Roxanne, I found this play so poignant and what an incredible message it sends to all “the living.”

  10. There are no do-overs, but we often live life as if it’s a dress rehearsal, always waiting for “something” to happen, to arrive, instead of appreciating the now. Thanks for the reminder. Good post!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Lisa, So true. I find age helps me find the true beauty of each day, something I didn’t have when younger.

  11. I’ve not read this. I will now.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Diane, I think you’d like it.

  12. A touching post, Laurie. Over the weekend a dear friend and I went to see our “other sister.” We’ve all been BFF’s since we were all 15. Now as over 60 women, we cherish our time together, especially now… Our “other sister” has Stage IV breast cancer that’s also in her brain and her lungs. Our visit this weekend was like hundreds we’ve had before, talking, laughing, enjoying one another’s company, but then again… I know each one of us will remember this day for as long as we live. Two blocks after I backed out of her driveway, I pulled over on the side of the road and cried. Our time together will never be the same, again, and we don’t know how much time any of us has. xoxox, Brenda PS: I’m not sure I’m up for Our Town.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 6 years ago

      Brenda, Sounds like you don’t need “Our Town.” You already get it. I’m so sorry about your friend. Life is so unfair. All my best…

  13. I love this! Thornton WIlder is so pleased with that younger you! And the now you who truly ingested his words.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 4 years ago

      Pennie, That play was so wonderful and taught so much.

  14. An excellent reminder to enjoy what we have . . . now!
    Was it just a few short weeks ago I was hugging my grandchildren? Going to movies? Eating out? Attending church? Teaching my class?
    Now it’s Zoom everything and waving at my family from windows or doorways or twenty feet apart. 🙁

      • Laurie Stone

      • 4 years ago

      Diane, Strange times, indeed. It must be very hard not hugging your grandchildren. We’ll get through this and someday it will be a distant memory.

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