Curly Grapes

I was out enjoying myself with friends yesterday, soaking up the sun and culture of the Halifax waterfront lined with tall ships.  It was fun weaving through the waves of people, inhaling all of the aromas of food cooking (especially the sweet deliciousness of the Cow's Icecream waffle cones warming) and finally setting at the Lower Deck with my people for shenanigans, libations, laughs and great music.  In the middle of Shaydid's rendition of Adele's 'Rolling In The Deep' I spotted a face in the crowd I hadn't seen for many years.  Upon seeing him, I immediately remembered a poem a scribbled down on the back of a box office envelope I had tucked under my arm waiting around for instruction from the Artist Director.  I was working for a theatre company at the time and I always thought he was easily one of the loveliest faces God had ever awarded a man.  It appears he still has it.  After spotting him, I quietly recalled those years working alongside so many talented and tempermental people.  The theatre world is fascinating.  It was incredible to be part of so many amazing shows, from the germ stages of the first reading to the lights going down on opening night.  It was such a rush, such a challenge to watch and help mount an idea into a full production.  It takes a village and I lived for every second of it.

I was terribly fortunate to work as an assistant stage manager on Sheree Fitch's 'Light A Little Candle'.  Still one the most empowering and awe-inspiring/girl power times I have ever had.  The story was set in a transiton house and packed a powerful wallop.  I was there, stage-side for every single show, waiting for costume changes and the like.  I cried everynight.  Still weeping when the actor playing the eldest abuse character breaks down to reveal her reason for being there.  I knew every line of the show off by heart after a few days and I knew it was coming, yet every single time she'd wail, 'He raped me!' the hairs would raise on the back of my neck and my eyes filled with tears.  Used to make my stomach knot because she delivered that one line with outstanding emotion.  I'd be there helping her change, sobbing.  She would just smile and shake her head kindly and squeeze my arm gently.  So many great stories from that run, perhaps I'll share more on that show/experience at a later date.

This morning after whole wheat french toast and a steamy cup of joe, I dug through all of my writing books and found the poem I scribbled down that day.  Obviously, that envelope is long gone but I transfered it into my writing book once I was home.  You have to write things down where you have to until you can secure them to the pages of your writing book or commit them to a blank Word document.  What a flashback.  Pleasant.  I love to be reminded of good times.  His face and this poem did just that.

Curly Grapes

my eyes found you

leaning (casually)

on the Theatre Post

w/ a palm full of grapes

a pocket full of lightening

& a mess of wild tangles

in your curly blonde hair

you couldn't have been

any more beautiful

when the moon-clock ticked

& I paused to love you



I plan to fill my Sunday with things I love.  A few pages of my book, some writing, a killer playlist, exercise and a few hours with people I love.  And maybe, think a little more about all of the places I've been in my life that allowed me to arrive right here, right where I'm meant to be.  Punches, bumps in the road and all.  What a journey it's been so far.  Can't wait to see where else I'll go and who I'll meet.

In propinquity,

Nic