A letter (of apology) I wrote to my main character this morning
Dear Muirgen,
It’s been a while. I
don’t know what was the best indication – the fact my recent files in Word were
all theater press releases and board minutes or the layer of dust on this
notebook that has been resting on the piano bench… at least since my last
dinner party… which was April, but it has probably been longer than that if I’m
completely honest.
In spite of that neglect, I miss you. I miss our mornings together – especially the
ones when I wake up earlier than necessary because all the thoughts of your
adventures kept my mind spinning as I went to sleep. I haven’t had one of those nights in a while –
or a car ride with your soundtrack filling the quiet of my hybrid.
I let other thoughts fill those spaces. Particularly thoughts of another Irish woman
and all her singing and snarky quips to which I would listen in the car to
ingrain them in memory. She took a lot
of time keeping me out at night and then wound me up so I went to sleep later
with my head full of other things.
Because, of course, I visited her at the place that has such a long list
of todos and not enough people to help or come see but so much potential and I
can’t stop thinking about that – especially the fundraising possibilities for
the building’s 25th anniversary… but that… well you don’t care about
that, do you?
I hoped that other Irish woman would lead me back to you,
but she took a lot of time. And there
still had to be time for family and friends… and work. Work is good, you see. There is a lot to do there. Sometimes it is overwhelming, but mostly it
is a challenge to figure out solutions.
It’s such a different reality from a year ago when I needed so
desperately to escape. It was so easy to
plunge into your worlds to get out of my miserable daily experience. And the ideas of what you could become and
where we could go together probably stopped me from drowning in that sadness.
The sadness has washed back to sea and the perspective of
lessons learned settle into place. A
perspective that changes how I see you, too, when I open up those files and
read what I put you through in time and fortune. I wonder if I can get back to those places
without the sadness. Do I want to go
back there?
Yes. The sorrow of
losing you and the opportunity to complete our adventure would leave a gaping
hole in my life and heart. It is
difficult – so difficult – to get my mind back to our old routine. Even now that the other Irish woman took her
final bow. But maybe our routine has to
be different this time around because the other possibilities competing for my energy
and focus are different, too.
Fortunately, I committed to you nine months ago. We are going on a trip to the country you
brought me back to. I can be in the land
of your magic and find details to fill in the stumbling gaps of your epic
story. We will be amongst others on
their own creative journeys – who will hopefully inspire me to stay with you
and not stray into the land of the next audition or guilt to join a set build
or membership marketing woes.
We can find one another again. But we have a few weeks before
departure. And this room – this space –
this notebook is where I need to see you every day. We can work through this distance and get
back to our travels through time and humanity.
Distance can help the heart grow and give a new
appreciation. And while my emotional
fuel has changed personally, the world at large offers up a new fury – subject matter
we can tackle together.
I am still sorry for this neglect. But as much as our relationship is about
words, the way to prove the truth of my apology is to put that sorry into
action. And write.
This is a good start.
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