Purple

There’s just something about sitting in an auditorium with the house lights dimmed watching a different world created on stage.

Last night I saw “The Color Purple” at the Civic Center. I could almost taste the Georgia peaches. I could almost feel the southern air, heavy with humidity. I was there as Celie endured a horrible childhood, the loss of her sister Nettie and the pain of a loveless marriage. Had we been about three rows closer I would have held her hand and stroked her hair while she cried into her apron. When she climbed out of the dark hole that had become her existence and called her husband a pile of “dead horse shit”, I laughed in his face.

The passion of the performers and the power of their voices reached in, took ahold of my soul and gave it a good shake. I left wanting to go home to my awesome husband, thank my mother and tell my sisters I love them.

Never forget to look at what God has done.