Eight Weeks and (a Strong) Heart Pounding
In eight weeks exactly, with my heart pounding in terror, I will wonder WHY I put myself through this, yet again. As I prepare in the dressing room and warm up backstage, I will inevitably fantasize about grabbing my things, furtively getting into the car, and driving far, far away. (Nobody will notice, I reason, until it is too late.) I will even go so far as to envision myself making my way to a different city, San Antonio perhaps, checking into a hotel, and staying there until all memories of this show have disappeared into the ether of time.
I will, however, not escape. I will breathe, summon all my physical, emotional, and spiritual faculties, and remember WHY I am here. I will close my eyes, allow gratitude to wash over me, and open my heart to those who have come to share what I have to offer. I will remember the survivors to whom this performance is dedicated, and as I hold their strength and courage close, I will take my starting place onstage.