Not Ready

When something big happens in life. And then it comes to an end. There’s the moment when I realize I have to keep moving. Ready or not. The next moment is here and I am still holding on to what was. Because it was momentous. I am dwelling in the magic of it. It’s one of the things that keeps me returning to the stage. Every time, a willing player in the game. I know it is going to go by so fast, the rehearsals, each time I step out on stage, until boom, here it is, closing night, done and gone. I sit bereft and numb at my kitchen table Monday morning wondering how it happened. Again. Another show behind me. All the emotions, raw and real, still rolling through me. No where to put them. Just the blinking light of hope that the ache will fade but the high won’t. This show. Burning. Not only the name of it, but what it continues to do inside my heart, seven days after the lights fading to black for the last time.
The “longing, burning…” continues. Three years of staged readings, three weeks of rehearsals, sixteen performances. I’m not ready to let go. The connections made on and behind the stage, with the audiences, with the words, with all who walked through each moment with me. This story, from the moment I became one of the players, I knew would dig in to my every quiet, hidden place and do its best to push it up. Because in order to truly come alive on stage, I knew it would have to. And now that everything is on the surface, I am all too aware that I must acknowledge it. Honor it. All of it. All of it makes me more. And those close to me, should know that I got there because of their heart and passion and commitment. I am not ready to move from this place yet. This show, this collection of consuming moments, deserves a little more time, to linger, to breathe.

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