There are moments, clear as wine, when a parent sees the adult-to-be step forth from the child-who-is. The child swings a bat, or lifts a camera, or slowly reads aloud the sad words of Chief Joseph, and suddenly a door opens, and now, in this brief draught, the child reveals the body's coiled future, the mind's secret room.

That happened to me last night, when I watched my son on stage. I have seen him perform on stage since he was a second grader--first as a musician, later also as an actor. But last night I saw my son step forth as an artist.

It is hard to explain how moving this was: to watch him enact the role, and then, as the door swung open, to watch him become the role.

Nothing could be more beautiful.