Atlantis

"I turned the corner when I met you."

-- Jimmy, Thoroughly Modern Millie

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The 60th season at the Huron Playhouse is over. We loaded out the last of our rented equipment at BGSU, under a microwave sun, with eyes so fuzzy from tears that they felt like tennis balls. Last night, sans bed frames, walls and privacy, we crammed mattresses into two rooms and slept like Tetris blocks. I curled into a fetal position, symmetrical with another, smiling quietly in the midst of sleeping friends. We came, we worked, we played. I have the distinct honor of having played in all five shows this season.

Woo, theatre. Woo, life.

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The last few weeks' worth of mosaic pieces has been beautiful. Now, with moments for reflection and free minutes for relishing latent joy, I step back and see: like pencil doodles on Post-It squares, or torn stubs on a board of colors, or a pair of beautifully enhanced eyes--the most honest, demure and pretty eyes in the world, the choicest sapphires on this golden earth--gazing back with fixed affection...the gymbols align, the vanishing point reappears within a winning sunset's horizon, and the lights on the beach don't seem too far away.

Gatsby gets his green; Huck has himself; Chris has his smile.

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Before every show this season, I uttered this tiny prayer to the Highest: "In this fake life as in real life, enjoy the show."

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I'll send all my lovin' to you. I get by with a little help from my friends. Please don't be long.

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Now, in a dim hotel room with frolicking friends on bouncy beds, I feel on the cusp of something wonderful: not just one something, but Many Somethings, all aiming at one constellation. I'm glad to go, but I can't wait to be back.