A private concert
My husband knows it. He sees me get all decked out one Saturday evening and he knows what's going on. Hair is perfect, outfit is perfect. I have my nice perfume on. No, I don't have another man. I have another woman.
Her name is Ednita Nazario and she has been with me forever. Before there was Lady Gaga, Shakira, Pink, Whitney, dare I say Madonna, there was and always will be Ednita. She's our Puerto Rican Diva. Her songs have helped me survived heartache since I was about 15. High School boyfriend, college boyfriends, adulthood relationships. Her voice is outstanding and her songs are those you want to sing along even when sober. Although you sound much better with a few in you.
I only sing with her in the privacy of my car. Men don't get her songs; even those who speak Spanish. They just don't get her. I have to be alone or with my Puerto Rican "amigas" to become "Ednita". I should say Ednita's back up singer, my life long dream.
So on those few nights that I go out with a girlfriend or two, Steve knows I'm going to have a concert. It seems my I pod does too because the Shuffle always picks Ednita songs. I turn up the volume on the radio and sing my heart out. There is no heartache to get over, just daily stress of being a working mother of a 2 year old and a wife.
Last September, I also found a new feature that only my concert venue could provide: my Honda CRV's kick ass air conditioning. I blasted that baby and my hair lifted the right way. I was Ednita, hair blowing in the fake wind and all. I could feel the spotlight on me.
By the time I got to the restaurant I was three songs into my concert and I felt alive. Something about doing the one silly thing you did when you were single can always connect you back to yourself.
I unplugged the I pod and lowered the volume on the radio. I didn't want the valet guy to figure out what I was doing. I fixed my hair and went in to the restaurant for some more fun with my my other girlfriends. Ay Mama!