Each time I leave New York City, I sit in the back of my ride to the airport watching the city roll by and wonder, ‘When will I get to come back? Will it be soon? What if I never do?’ Imagine my delight when I left the city in January, that the answer to that question was going to be “In May!”

Having just been there a few months prior, it was a bit of a fluke but I’m never one to say no to New York. I wandered around the Big Apple for a few days with nothing to do but eat pizza and hot dogs killing time until the start of my next show. I was able to catch five this time – “Dead Outlaw,” “Oh, Mary!,” “Death Becomes Her,” “Just In Time,” and “Operation Mincemeat” – I’ll get to my reviews on those when I have a moment. Add those to the Tony-eligible shows I saw in January (“Gypsy,” and “Maybe Happy Ending”) and it’s been a good year for this theater-lover.

My nephew heard me giving my recap to the family on Sunday and, with wide eyes, asked me slightly incredulously “How many shows have you seen Aunt Erica?!!?” sort of shaking his head while grabbing another cookie.

I answered him, “You know, I’ve wondered the same thing. If you take the shows I’ve seen on Broadway THEN add all the shows I see when I’m here at home – how many hours of my life have I sat inside a dark theater?” He wagered more time than I’ve spent sleeping. He might be right.

I’ve been trying to get to NYC as often as possible for years to see shows. Some years I do better than others. It’s a trek, it’s expensive and with all the other places I’ve yet to see in the world, should I keep going back?

But Broadway is Broadway and Broadway is only in New York (I know there’s a West End and other places to see world class theater, but that’s not Broadway).

Ideally, if you lived there, you could see a show and then process it for a week, let is sink in, live with the characters and the soundtrack before moving from one world to the next. But out-of-towners don’t have that luxury. So we stack ’em deep, seeing as many shows as possible in as little time as possible.

But why? Why spend so many precious New York minutes – or minutes of my life – sitting in a dark theater?

To feel.

My sis was chatting with me about the various shows and when I told her “Oh I bawled in that one,” she responded, “yeah but you cry in all of them so that’s not really an endorsement.”

I don’t cry in all of them.

But there are moments in all of them that will put me to various levels of tears in my eyes.

So I broke it down for her.

Sometimes I’m moved by the performance – the character singing their song with such beauty and/or power, and/or tenderness. (Jak Malone, Operation Mincemeat; Julia Knitel, Dead Outlaw; Jonathon Groff, Just In Time; Audra McDonald, Gypsy).

Sometimes I get moved by the story – by the empathy I’m feeling for this character at this moment (Hester Leggatt, Mincemeat; Elmer McCurdy, Dead Outlaw; Oliver, Maybe Happy Ending). This is one of the most beautiful things about theater: It gives us the opportunity to walk (or dance) in someone else’s shoes. This is how perspectives get changed. This is how we learn to see the world differently.

Sometimes, I’ll get moved by the brilliance of what’s unfolding. That somewhere, someone sat down with an idea one day, pulled out a notebook and started writing. That they pulled together a group of brilliant friends and collaborators and I’m sitting in a dark theater, watching their many collective hours and talents on extraordinary display. Whether that’s dense/meaty writing (Mincemeat); stunning costumes (Death Becomes Her); rich harmonies and orchestrations (Mincemeat; Just in Time); dazzling special effects (Death Becomes Her; Maybe Happy Ending); incredible set design (Maybe Happy Ending) or comedic absurdity (Oh, Mary!). Someone came up with that; someone created it. And it blows my mind. Every time.

Other times, if I know more of the back story of a show, I get moved by that – that a group of friends wanted to write a musical together so they did (Mincemeat). Or that this is based on a true story, this is someone’s life (Dead Outlaw; Just in Time; Mincemeat). That someone emailed themself an idea for a show and now it’s a play on Broadway (Oh, Mary!)

Sometimes I’m moved by all of the themes that run underneath the story – love and loss; becoming obsolete; mortality; grief (Maybe Happy Ending; Mincemeat; Gypsy).

And every now and then, you sit in a show that’s going to hit you with all of the above. Where the plot and character ride on the swells of beautiful orchestrations at the time the story makes me start to think about my own loss or something similar, and the performance is exquisite and…. I’m a mess. Probably not quite ugly-crying, but certainly something in the ‘please don’t turn the lights on right now, I’ll embarrass myself,’ realm.

I once heard someone describe their love of a show as “I loved it, it almost made me cry.” I’m just the opposite. I expect to tear up and some point about something. My gauge is “Hmm…. I liked it but it didn’t make me cry. I wasn’t moved by it.”

I like being moved. I like feeling and experiencing – I’m very anti-spoiler for that reason. I think it robs me of being able to fully experience what the creators intended.

All of that is to say, theater is a gift, and on Sunday, June 8, we celebrate the best on Broadway at the 78th Annual Tony Awards (CBS). I’ve printed my ballot, I know who I’m rooting for. I’m sure I’ll write a few thoughts after but for now, this is my love letter to theater, to Broadway and I’m extremely grateful I was able to experience so much of it this past year.