I did a dangerous thing this past month. I transferred temporary circus ringleader duties to my wonderful assistant ringmaster, my husband.
For one precious and memorable weekend, I escaped to a far-off land on a magic carpet to attend the spectacle of my college roommate’s wedding. Gone for all of three days, I left him in charge of all circus performances for a long weekend.
Our lead performer, the big top tent, and the carefully tended lot were all fully under his masterful supervision. I must admit, I had my doubts about his ability to maintain appearances during my absence.
The main act, I knew, would be easy. This was the first performance that he truly mastered in our circus. Long before laundry or dishes, he showed the keen ability to keep our little lion in check. I knew that this would be his main production. While I missed our feral performing feline, I knew that he could maintain her rigorous training and feeding schedule.
For this particular weekend, he was left with a short list of parades and events to attend. All of which were handled beautifully, the growing cat arriving with pristine fur and acceptable accessories for each party. Bravo! One act was successfully managed, but could he maintain the other two?
The homely tent would be manageable. His main requirement is the ability to maintain the energy of the crowd. We have been making small renovations to our circus tent and expanding to accommodate future acts.
Building new stage sets to incorporate more props specifically for our little lioness and future elephant (talk about a balancing act!) Being gone for such a short time can be dangerous for a circus leader. It leaves just enough time for the circus tent to start wavering in the wind. The house remained intact, all tents pitched, and the circus schedule on track. Huzzah!
A minor miracle, he even showcased his old role as a magician and procured fresh flowers for my arrival back out of thin air. That only left the final ring of my circus.
The garden lot was my main worry. My VIP only acts. The space for small performances. This ring of our circus is not quite as automated. It is also currently approaching its most impressive window.
After five years of performing in one location, I can comfortably say that this show is by far our hardest. The drama drummed up by acts like the amazing alstromeria, or the astounding agapanthus, and the heroic hydrangea can only be viewed for a short window of time.
Having them all awaiting their seasonal debut at once puts pressure on even the most even-headed performer.
Of course, I was certain that this would be the part where something went wrong. That particular performance, the one weekend when I dared to leave the entire circus under secondary command, happened to be the hottest one of the summer.
Under the masterful direction of my part-time ringleader, the entire circus had to pitch in. The chaos of the performance lent itself to the entertainment as the dutiful ringmaster attempted to water our upcoming acts that appeared to be dramatically wilting. The crowd (and I) waited with bated breath.
I arrived home late in the evening as the show was closing. I was nervous. Unsure what to expect after such an eventful performance.
Much to my surprise, after a moment of silence, the mighty performers all stood up from their bowed position. The crowd went wild. Hip, Hip, Hooray! Left to bask under a standing ovation was none other than the interim ringleader.
In the end, it does not matter if every show goes as planned. Things may go off schedule, get a little messy, or wilt down beyond repair. That is life in the circus. Have a little faith in your circus, and enjoy the show. After all, nobody knows what is going to happen until the finale closes and the last curtain falls.
