What came first? The melancholy nostalgia in-between ache, or the music of Amber Darland on a No Shame Eugene Theatre night amongst friends I used to have. Ones that smile and hug me when they see me tonight, but whom I've lost touch with because of my divorce.
With heart beating, my fingertips rubbing against themselves, I see hijab. I see art. I hear "I Am." I hear whispers and quiet footfalls and the warm chords of acoustical guitar. My favorite.
Struggling not to cry, I applaud instead.
I feel stupid in the skirt and tights I've worn tonight, and wish instead I could hide in jeans and the wool cap my friend crocheted for me.
No hiding for me tonight though -- I'm performing. Reading a monologue. Something different. Jump into the fire, no toes in the water.