In moments of transition, I always wonder what’s next.
This Buffalo Bill House, though, makes it all feel normal.
One week from today, my show will close.
I don’t know what’s next for the show, for my career, for my life. All I know is that I will have to pack my bag, move out of the Anne Frank room, and wake up alone in Harlem.
I’m going to have to find a way to deal with the loss of this show. Transitions are hard for me. Closings are hard for me. This closing, in particular, the closing of a show that changed my life in countless ways, will be heartbreaking.
I got to spend three months with Jonatha, one of the most wonderful, fullest, fun characters I’ve ever played. An amazing part.
I got to play onstage and offstage with the greatest group of crazy actors this side of the Lincoln Tunnel. I made amazing friends, and I had moments where I felt firmly that I was completely myself. Completely present. Completely at home.
I got to live with these folks in a big mansion on the beach. We cook family breakfasts, we watch movies, we get drunk and take pictures of ourselves in our fancy outfits.
The melancholy has already set in a bit, not helped by my menstrual cycle.
I got very big, very exciting news about the next step for this show. Nothing’s confirmed, nothing’s certain, but it’s HUGE. I haven’t quite gotten a full breath since. Tonight’s our big industry shindig, and post-show dress-up hob-nob. I can’t wait. I can’t wait to do this play again. I love this play. My heart is so incredibly full.
Oh. And last night we danced in the rain.