I saw the emotional avalanche that is Dear Evan Hansen two weeks ago, on a yearly childless pilgrimage my husband and I make to the city where we fell in love, and conveniently, where Mockingbird holds an annual conference. Maybe it’s the range and sincerity displayed by headliner Ben Platt, with whose image I am considering adorning my bedroom walls (I think my husband will be fine with it; considering our age difference, it would be more of a proud Teen Mom situation). Maybe it’s the poignant and earworm-ridden soundtrack. Maybe it’s the tendency of the cast to depart from the stage door entrance every night and graciously sign playbills. Or maybe it’s the narrative, which feels personalized to me on every level: high-anxiety mother of at least one high-anxiety son; former awkward teen and current awkward adult; battler of insecurity and feelings of never fitting in.

I loved it, is what I’m saying. And what’s more, I am it.

Read the rest over at Mockingbird!