A place that feels like home
It was dark as night as my fingers grazed over the rough concrete wall. The cold, rough stone gave way to cool metal as my hand found the lightswitch. A quick flick, followed by a soft pop, and light began to pour into the space in front of my eyes. The theater comes to life.
Curtains draped all around the wings from a ceiling so high that the top was barely visible between the expanse of cables and rope.
Step by step I walked past the velvet curtains, shimmering in the light like blue sapphires, torn at the bottom from years of use. My steps echoed in the emptiness of the large room, as I traveled across the slate black floor.
Looking out, almost hidden behind the glare of lights, are hundreds of chairs. They sat empty, longing to be used by those who wish to laugh and cry. A spotlight hit me, basking me in warmth and the comfort of familiarity.
Closing my eyes, I reveled in the feeling of peace and purpose. And then, with two small words, I spoke what I knew to be true.
Standing on the stage, savoring my emotions, I remembered my first musical. I recalled the moment when I stood in front of my directors, auditioning for a role at age 6. I had sung “Amazing Grace.”
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sou-.”
That was as far as I had gotten, before breaking down into tears due to the sheer nervousness and paralyzing fear that washed over me. Yet, I got a part in the chorus. And when I took my first step onto this very stage at that young age, I became someone new.
I thought of all of this, and recalled many more memories with the family of theater people I had built up over the years. 14 years later, I stood on that very stage where it all began, ready to lead as a technical director. I found a calling. And the stage called to me, every year.