End of an Era

Grace,

Is it true?

Is it really closing? OUR Our Town?

I promise never to see another production as long as I live. It's true what I said, that when my reflection smears that monologue across CTA windows, I only want to see your face and your tears staring back at me.

It's also true what they say; I love New York. I wanted to go so bad. I wanted to carve out a tiny plush perch on a weathered Brooklyn address. I wanted to wrap my four favorite things in a purple handkerchief from Eloise, and go. I wanted to go.

I wanted friend boy and kitties to go too.

I wanted a photographer from National Geographic to take our picture as we stepped on to the grand central platform. I wanted to go. I wanted to land. I wanted to wear old fashioned boots with laces and hooks. I love New York. I knew exactly where to go, and what to do, and how fast to walk when I was there for the audition. I just knew, my feet took me there. I was confident in ways I'm never confident in this city I've lived in for twenty six years. The people on the train looked like pictures of my parents when they were young, the crowds squeezed me in the appropriated cardinal directions, and everything was clearly labeled.

At the bar with the fire places back in Chicago, the night before you left; you whispered in my ear that I would always be your favorite Rebecca.

You're my favorite, and my only Emily. At the very end of my life, when I slip into comma, I'll turn to the fake trees and hanging lights, and I'll say; Oh yeah, I had almost forgotten.

And the fake trees and hanging lights will say; shh! It's almost over.

And you'll say; I can't, It goes so fast. We don't have time to look at one another. Take me back.

Alright, alright, lets say one day I have a daughter. And one day she's in the school pageant. And it happens to be Our Town. Then, and only then will I risk loosing the placement of your inflections-- The folds of your ribbon-- Our silent air traffic communication across the chairs on tops of tables at the end of each first act.

You never know. Last I heard I was technically still on hold for the role. They could call me and ask me to come in for the final four weeks.

I wont hold my breath.

Take care of George for me.

Break all your legs.

Your neighbor,

Skin and Toast and Bacon and February