I crouched down before the board

Balanced on the balls of my feet.

I rested my forehead against the side,

curled my fingers up over the lines

of your initials.

 

Scared out of my mind.

Afraid the script that was mine

wouldn’t make sense,

the pages blank,

and all the meat and meaning

stripped down,

gleaned pieces gleaming with

the loss of speech.

 

In that moment,

I didn’t want the house lights to go down,

I wanted to drive an hour out of town,

watch the stars,

then the sun,

rise.

 

Instead,

the curtain rose,

the first act bled

into the second,

studded with failures and successes.

And before I knew it,

the show closed.

 

A beautiful sense

of bittersweet relief,

the release of tense

muscles,

new air filling my lungs.

 

On the soundboard,

I was not

prepared to do

the very thing

I had to do

but still I

did my job, gave my heart.

Yes it was hard

to mess up

and still be proud.

 

But now I know

it all works out,

time doesn’t stop,

actors can’t always shout,

and I’ve got the clout

to burn off clouds.

 

Sharp,

vibrant memories

that will never fade,

will stay engrained.

I will always remember

the glorious rumble of our floating city,

the accumulation of

times well spent.

 

I’ve grown a lot these past

few years,

the sweat, the blood, and all the tears.

I am stronger,

in my heart and arms.

I trust and love more freely now,

both myself and others too.

 

So thank you

for the laughter

and the heartache,

headaches,

the joy that comes

from having a place in the world,

making something bigger than myself,

and watching you grow.

 

My final advice:

Be nice.

Don't take any crap.

Respect is mutual.

Make sure to laugh!

 

And in life,

like theatre,

there is beauty and pain.

Highs and lows,

constant change.

 

Understand

that the times that make you feel small,

stop you from feeling at all,

keep you caught in a crawl

will not last,

cannot be sustained.

when the show is over,

you,

you will remain.

 

Love,

Abigail