After the Curtain Came Down

Back in May I auditioned for our community theatre’s production of Mamma Mia and got the role of Donna, the mother (Meryl Streep played her in the movie). I met with a singing coach a few times over the summer, and we started rehearsing as a group in September. Three hours, twice weekly. Eight shows in December. It was a great experience. I thought I’d share a note that I shared with my theatre family after the curtain came down for the last time.

This is long. Thanks guys.

I’ve always liked acting and performing. Singing in public? Not so much. I always vied for the lead role in the school Christmas play - usually Mrs. Claus. And I was always the understudy. Always for the same girl. She was academic and athletic and pretty and petite and, apparently, perfect for the role of Mrs. Claus. Every year I learned all of her lines and secretly hoped that she would get sick (like a bad cold, not cancer). One year the weather was so bad, the school busses didn’t run the day of our big concert. My parents drove me in, but hers did too and I was so disappointed.

I never did get the big role in the school play. I did quite a bit of acting in junior high and high school and took some drama classes in university. I did classes for fun while I was living in the city. I still loved it, but opportunities seemed few and far between, and life was busy.

Then I got married and moved back home. At work, my office-mate and I talked (a lot). She was thinking about auditioning for a play. I encouraged her to go for it. I told her I’d always wanted to pursue acting more seriously and get an agent. I thought I should lose some weight first (eye roll). My colleague pushed me to try, weight be damned. I did. I put my resume together, went for headshots, and I got an agent. I went on auditions and got to be involved in a couple of small projects and one big project that my tiny part was cut from.

Then I had a baby. Things change fast and slowly at the same time. You cut your hair. Can’t fit any of your old clothes. Lose touch with friends. Revel in motherhood, but often don’t recognize the person you see in the mirror.

And that’s where I was when I auditioned for Mamma Mia. And I finally got a big part. In our little community theatre. At 35.

And it might not seem like a big deal, but slowly, rehearsal after rehearsal, I started to feel like myself again. Not just a mother and a wife and an absent friend, but like Trish. I started to feel like I was a part of something. I started to develop friendships. I felt that spark, fueled by fear and excitement and being forced to really be in the moment. But mostly fear.

So thank you. Thanks to our director for trusting me to do it. Thanks to everyone for welcoming me. For not cringing at my sometimes really bad singing. For the granola bars and Hi-Chews. For the hair and make-up tips. For the nicknames and all of the laughs. For all of the touching (inside joke, y’all). For being my friends and becoming my little theatre family. Thanks for helping me find that piece - that tiny spark - that I had almost forgotten about.

The play is over and the holidays are over, and I really don’t want to lose that spark. I’m going to try a few new things this year and get back into some stuff that I haven’t had time for (hello, blog!). How are you doing? What are you passionate about? What makes you feel alive? Do you know? Have you felt that spark lately? Let’s find it, and vow to do more of it this year.