New year, new house. I wake in the serene quiet, exhausted and weary to the bone from the last two months of shows and 2 weeks of moving. Exhausted, but calm, and feeling lighter than I have in weeks. I wander through the chaos of the unpacked rooms, stumbling with my precious coffee. Even the chaos seems right somehow. I think we belong here.
Since we won’t have any internet service for a few days, I find myself suffering from withdrawal, my morning ritual of email and surfing is not an option. Michael forces me, unknowingly, to have a melancholy moment by playing Scott’s CD, which includes the song he wrote after Terry died during the opening night performance. I realize how much we, as a cast, went through in 6 months of “Beauty & The Beast”. I feel another kind of withdrawal. I’ve become so used to seeing, and drinking in, certain people on a daily basis. Ah well, show biz. File the memories, learn the lessons, then pick up the next script and begin again. New memories, new lessons.
The next 3 weeks stretch out before me like a summer field, the rehearsals for “Dial M for Murder” a distant mirage on the horizon. The thought of puttering from room to room, pushing boxes, hanging art, not leaving the house for days if I don’t want to, makes me giddy with anticipation.
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