I remember a persistent buzzing rousing me from deep slumber. It was my phone. I didn’t need to check the caller ID, I already knew whomever was calling would change the course of my life that very moment. I could feel the desperate pound of my heart in my very toes when Chloe’s voice came through. The next few seconds were a blur.
‘We are happy to offer you at place on our Write to play programme.’
I never cry, but I sure did that day. Something good had finally happened to me! After the adrenaline wore off and the phone call a distant memory, reality set in, I thought to myself;
‘Shit, shit, shit! What have I done!’
Suddenly, all the doubts came tumbling down one by one with little mercy, forcing me out of my bedroom, a place lathered with depression and quail. ‘Shit had just got real.’
The day had finally arrived. I was so nervous; I woke up and cleaned my already spotless house. I scrubbed and polished until the floor complained. I glanced at my clock, damn it I was going to be late, not a good first impression! So, I did what one does when one’s panicking about time, I called Uber.
I concerned myself with mundane topics with the driver and let him fill my ears with stories I didn’t care much about, anything to ease the anxiety meandering through my veins. On shaky legs, I walked towards my very future, my rebirth, my second chance, knowing very well it was all up to me how I handled the next year. First, I had to get through the week.
I took my time writing my name on the signing in sheet, taking practised care to write each letter as if my life depended on it, as if a gold star awaited me if I spelt it right. That’s when I realised; I’d been holding my breath the whole time.
‘Just breathe Lettie, breathe before you pass the hell out and then you’ll be royally Fu…’.
A kind voice brought me to attention.
‘Hi, I’m Babs, I’ll be supporting you for the week.’
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, I had someone supporting me, someone actually cared enough to put this in place. I didn’t know what to do, I was overwhelmed, a rainbow of emotions. Then my mind took me back to a place that once was, a time when I’d felt visible and mattered. I thought of my mother. Her spirit propelled me forward and the next few days were spectacular.
I swam in an abundance of knowledge. All the questions burning in my unlearned playwright mind cascaded out of me with careless abandon. I asked, they answered, I cried, they soothed, I was afraid, they comforted, they encouraged…
By the end of it all, I looked around and felt warm hands connect with my own.
‘You are now part of the family’, they said,
I was in.
‘Welcome to Graeae Theatre, your home for the year.’