The stage is dark, the theater empty...
almost.
A few of us have stayed to sing karaoke, a sometimes-honored tradition at the end of a run. The party'll break up in a few hours, and we'll return to our homes and apartments. And our cast will never again gather to sing, dance, entertain this show. It is the way of things.
Because the show at some point begins, it must end. Because we get to know each other--some for the first time, others to know again--we must say goodbye. Like any endeavor, the feelings we have once it has ended are a direct reflection of the amount of work put into said endeavor. The pain of loss is a direct result in the joy and fun times had.
After tonight's show, I went into the foyer to greet the patrons, shake their hands, wish them a Merry Christmas. I don't know if other theaters have this tradition, or if it's unique to our little company. I'm glad we do it--it's a way to connect with those who make the shows possible.
One man approached. We chatted. He said something profound. Without quoting him directly (because I can't remember the exact words and I'd hate to misquote him...), he said simply that when a show can can touch an audience and evoke feelings within them, feelings they didn't expect or maybe even want, it's something special.
I told him it's why we do what we do, why we put in the hours, spend time away from family and friends, all for free.
Soon the music will be stilled, the theater quiet. Everyone will get in their cars and travel on cold roads and fall into their beds exhausted physically, emotionally, even spiritually, glad they were part of something special, relieved they get a break, and wonder what show they'll do next.
And then the whole thing happens all over again...
Until the curtain falls for the final time...
Again.
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