Closing

This is awful.  The awesome project just closed.  It's beautiful and sad and bittersweet.  It's driving away from the old apartment, a lump in your throat.  It's the goodbye at a bedside that you're afraid might be the last one.  Right now it's past midnight and I'm pretty tired, so I'm probably not doing it justice.  There's such a swirl of pride and longing and delight and separation anxiety and deep regret at an ending of something beautiful and soul-filling.  Your last meal at your favorite restaurant.  Does that mean you won't eat?  No.  But you can't eat here again, in fact, here doesn't exist anymore, and can never be recaptured.

There's also just a little embarrassment because I talk too much and too effusively at parties and I can only imagine I say all the wrong things awkwardly and loudly.  Things I can replay in my mind over and over and over.

On the other hand, there are lots of happy moments from the awesome project I can replay over and over - funny moments backstage, reading all the prop books, finding out how awesome the lady taking care of wigs is in her real life, laughing about Stubby the painted hawk statue, dirty jokes and gossip and sharing audition information in the dressing room.  Lots more.  I just hit a wall of tiredness, so I'll have to save it for another day.  For now, I'm both profoundly sad and glad.  I feel lucky to have been a part of such a success, and hope in the deepest part of my soul that this isn't the last time I can be a part of something as awesome as this.

Ok, universe - thanks.  I'll take another.  I promise to treasure it just as much.