santa fe
are you there
do you swear you won't forget me
if i found you
would you let me come and stay?
i ain't getting any younger
and before my dying day
i want space
not just air
let em laugh in my face
i don't care
save a place
i'll be there
in santa fe

-jack kelly, newsies-

she wonders if that little twinge she feels when she enters a theater will ever fade. it is her own choice and it was a part of herself she didn't always like. she didn't like how sarcastic she was, how inept she felt, how lost she became. and yet...there is a shadow backstage, a pocket of humanity where a little piece of her old self is kept.

there were days when she would walk on air, giddy with the knowledge of creation at their fingertips, thrilled with her place in that world when none existed in the world outside those walls. she loved knowing that things were in their place backstage, loved knowing that there was an ebb and flow in each night, a tugging of time towards the same motion, and loved knowing that no two shows would ever be entirely the same. she loved existing in the boundaries without limitations. she loved being trusted. looking back she realizes it was a trust based on absolute blind faith, there was no reason for them to trust her, to hand her the props list and set check list and say 'go to', no reason for them to set her free. yet they did.

there was a freedom in this world out of space and time, freedom in knowing that she wasn't judged for being fat or clumsy, not judged for being inexperienced, that she didn't lose chances to improve or succeed. there was a freedom in being with people who were older and wiser, people who had been where she was and opened their home away from home to her.

and now, today, 7 years later, there is a freedom in walking into any theater anywhere in the world and feeling her heart settle just a little, feel her shoulders straighten and her fingers itch for the flashlight and the wrench and the cool cement blocks of the backstage walls. there is a freedom in the ability to find a home anywhere she goes. they gave that to her.

there is a freedom in knowing there are people back in her hometown, those innumerable wonderful people, who remember who she was then, and who would welcome her back if she wanted.

there is a freedom in knowing that what she is doing now isn't the only thing she can do. and that it is not the only work which she loves immensely. that, then, is her secret joy. she does not dare to hope anymore that she will land upon her feet. she knows she will. they gave that to her also.

does she miss it? some days so much her belly aches and twists. some days she cannot believe she gave that life up, some days she can smell the face powder and fresh wood sets and musty seats, some days she can hear the music and the laughter of the chorus. some days she can see the faces set solemnly in wonder backstage before the first cue.

and some days not so much at all. there are days when she doesn't think about it but to look fondly upon the posters on her wall--only three, first show, last show, and favorite show--and there are days when she shakes her head in quiet disbelief that that world was ever her chosen world. the headaches! the stresses!! the overwhelming mass of faces staring back at her every night at rehearsal!!! the struggle for perfection, never quite achieved!!!! and yet. if there had been no theater, she would not be herself today.

her mentor, a tall broad shouldered man with a killer laugh and a long ponytail, used to remind her, and everyone else, to do 'great good work with great good fun'. a silent mantra, a promise she makes to herself daily, a struggle that she cherishes.

so she puts a small square of those years in her back pocket, carries a piece in her purse, wears the smallest sweetest memories in a locket around her neck, and never forgets to remember that there were days, once upon a time, where magic happened, right in front of her eyes.