Performance Artist

Curtain opens. The murmuring of the crowd dims. (Although the teenagers along the front row continue to send text messages, their feet up on the railing.)

The juggler appears center stage. Ball one (self). Ball two (marriage). The juggler completes her task with (as is appropriately conceived) one hand tied behind her back, smiling.

When Ball Three (baby) is introduced, maybe a few in the crowd sit up, but nobody sucks in their breath. The juggler knows her job too well: Make it look easy. Lull the crowd into believing that nothing here is precarious. Perhaps they should get up and join her or start their own side act. (Although fewer are attempting to manage this feat, at least statistically speaking.)

Her act looks ordinary, usual, proper (quaint? kitsch?). Barely enough to hold anyone's interest. Even the juggler starts to look away and wonder where the woman in the third row gets her highlights done or what the man sitting next to her looks like in swim trunks before the juggler's fingers slip on a ball spinning midair and she steps uneasily to the side to catch it. (Three, it turns out, is enough to hold the juggler's own attention.)

She continues to smile out at the crowd (she is, after all, enjoying herself) even as she watches the couple in the back row vacate their seats and the teenagers tap restlessly on the keys of their cell phones.

She begins to wonder how many balls it will take, four (a promotion) five (another child), ten (her spouse's promotion, another degree or certification, after-school activities, winning a Pulitzer/Grammy/mention in the local paper/coffee mug with her name on it, getting her children into Harvard/Princeton/Vassar/community college) before anyone will be captivated by her performance.

What if she lights the balls on fire? Is that what it takes to have someone (anyone) sit up and take notice? When is it that the crowd will realize the balls (regardless of their number or chemical state) will drop the minute she turns away?

Newton: Didn't you ever notice it was your mother who stood in the way of gravity?