Thursday, March 23, 2006
Tuesday afternoon I received an email from a co-worker offering two free tickets to an opera at the Met. I have to say I have been dying to see an opera at the Met. Just last week I was looking at the schedule and trying to decide if I should just go on my own or when I should beg my brother and his wife to come down from Boston to go with me. Lincoln Center is one of the most beautiful places in the City at night (the picture above doesn't do it justice). There is a large fountain in the center of the wide plaza and when the Metropolitan Operahouse is lit up and the curtains are drawn back, my favorite painting is illuminated. Two massive Chagall paintings are displayed on the upper level just through the windows. The one on the south end is a vibrant red and feels like a dream. I had to have the tickets.
I text messaged the Boy to see if he could join me and he gave me an enthusiastic YES! response.
We saw Luisa Miller by Verdi. Not a popular opera. Not a famous opera. Not my favorite opera. It didn't matter. It was our first time in the Met and his first opera - and he was excited about it. I loved it. I think he enjoyed it as well, or at least faked it. It was three and a half hours long but I was enthralled and felt the time pass quickly. Of course the opera was a love story. Of course it was tragic. Of course the lovers aren't supposed to be together, they are torn apart by a jeaous intruder and greedy father and ultimately they die in a murder/suicide/murder. Why is that so romantic?