There are many positive and negative aspects to doing regional theatre, many funny and poignant anecdotes... but today, we're going to focus on travel.
I'm 'out of state' several times a year now... sometimes for a few days to hit auditions, sometimes for weeks or months at a time for rehearsals and productions. I love to travel. I love to fly. I love road trips. I love to explore new places. I love the adventure. I love falling in love with towns I never thought about (like Savannah, GA) or places I never imagined I'd have a chance to see (like Maui). And even though I'm a sucker for jet-setting, I get homesick very easily.
By day two, I miss my family, my animals, and my 'routine' at home. By week two, I miss my kitchen and my creature comforts - my artsy projects and half of my 'technical equipment' that wasn't worth the luggage or shipping fees to bring along.
The silver lining in all the misery of separation anxiety and whisking cake batter with a wooden spoon from 1990 is the long-awaited and much anticipated homecoming.
After spending last week in Lancaster, PA, I was missing home and musing with my soon-to-be-castmates about their time away from their loved ones, the beauty of Skype and technology that keeps us all connected, and the strength and support we get from our 'anchors'. There is no mistaking the energy backstage on the closing day of a show. There is usually a bit of sadness and reluctance to leave our new family, and a ton of sheer, ants-in-the-pants excitement and joy towards reuniting with our old one.
My homecomings have begun to follow their own formulaic routine as of late... Beginning with my New York pace from the jetway to the 'arrivals' gate outside... while the other 15 people in the airport meander about (7 of which are TSA or flight crew). Happy reunion with J, who is all choked up.... because he's no longer responsible for 100% of the household chores - and can finally catch up on all the shows he wasn't allowed to watch without me.
Happy reunion with Roxanne (my dog) who apparently (hop, hop) thought I was dead (hop) and might not ever return (hop, hop, hop) to rub her belly again (hop) and really needs to figure out why my feet smell strange, (hop) but mostly the belly thing (hop, hop, circle-sprint, collapse, roll).
Two of the cats come out to see what the commotion is and stop to sample the new scratching post by the front door - the one that looks exactly like my suitcase. They leave, unimpressed.
I take my suitcase into the bedroom, give J the condensed version of every little detail of my flight, followed by the highlights of my time away as I pour a glass of wine and throw out dinner suggestions. We settle on ordering take-out Chinese so we can play the new Diablo 3 together and then watch Key & Peele. I decide that unpacking and laundry can wait until tomorrow.
I unsuccessfully try to coax Sparky onto my lap. (He's my familiar - and my favorite - but don't tell the others.) He's mad at me for leaving, so I'm getting the silent treatment as he pretends not to see me.
Waking up the next morning - in my own bed - there's a spring in my step as I convert the patio table into my workspace for the day and watch the squirrels and blue jays fight for the treats I've left outside the back door. Sparky jumps up onto my lap - purring - and all is once again right in my world...
...20 minutes later when I go to unpack my suitcase - I find that he has pissed on it.
Welcome Home.
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