...not in the scene from her Rodeo Drive shopping spree, nor the rep
lacing of the divots on the polo field, and especially not when she was "counseling" with "88 inches of therapy"...
It was during her character Vivian's first exposure to opera.
I wasn't wearing a Eugene Alexander red designer gown or a $250,000 ruby and diamond necklace; if I'm not mistaken, I 
was wearing a pair of low-rise jeans, a black tee, $30 Lucky Brand earrings, barefoot. My surroundings weren't the posh San Francisco Opera house, either.
Off the corner of my bedroom is a 10'x10' room, the walls of which are painted lime green; perhaps originally it was designed to be a closet or small study. The ceiling is vaulted but slanted and there's a floor-to-ceiling window facing east. During the day, it invites the sun into the room; at night, the moon and stars receive the same invitation, but they choose to remain at a safer distance.
While it often becomes a staging area for Things That Need To Be Taken To Goodwill, this is my creative corner, the place where my daughter and I stamp hand-made notecards. On this particular afternoon, however, I was working on an album from our 20th anniversary trip. Sitting on the floor in the eye of an intimidating 300-picture storm, I decided to play the new Paul Potts "One Chance" CD I had gotten 
the day before. The familiar first track is "Nessun Dorma", the song he sang during his first Britian's Got Talent performance, the song where I became smitten with this humble man. The second song began, "Con Te Partiro" ("Time to Say Goodbye"), and I slowed my work to listen more carefully. It's sung in Italian, so I couldn't understand the language, but that didn't seem to matter; I was hearing on another plane. "Amapola" is the third song, and by this point, I realized something was stirring deep within...this music was resonating in my soul. When "Everybody Hurts" ("Ognuno Soffre") began playing, I just stopped. I stopped what I was doing to fully engage the song, or rather, allow it to engage me.
It was a surreal moment...I-do-NOT-care-for-opera! I've always glazed over when I've heard pieces in the past. But not this day. It was a rare, exquisite moment when a gifted man shared his passion with me, speaking in a voice that transcended uncommon language, a voice that speaks with the heart and the soul, a voice I wish I recognized more often.
Sitting there alone in my room, I was moved nearly to tears, both bewildering and incomprehensible to me! It was then I remembered that scene in "Pretty Woman", when Vivian heard the beauty in "La Traviata"; if you recall, she didn't need Edward (Richard Gere) to explain further--she fully appreciated the beauty and depth of the music without needing to understand the words.
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Sorry, guys...this is getting LONG! My kids are on Spring Break, I'm writing with CONSTANT interruption today, so I think I'll pick up my thoughts in a bit. It'll give you a break, too ;).
