"OK, Amy, Closure is:
- A feeling that an emotional or traumatic experience has been resolved.
- A sense of resolution or conclusion at the end of an artistic work.
- An act or process of closing something, especially an institution, thoroughfare, or frontier, or of being closed."
Goodbye, Junie B.
What a ride.
What a roller coaster of emotions.
What a blessing.
What a gift.
For those of you who do not know, on Sunday, June 29th, I received a phone call asking informing me that the cast of "Junie B. Jones" was down at the Magik theatre due to unforeseen circumstances, and I was told, when the group sales coordinator began to call schools and parents to cancel shows, they received the voices of teachers and parents crying, begging, explaining how this would be their child's first field trip in two years, trying to explain how important this trip was for these kids, these shows, this character. How they so looked forward to it. How all of this being cancelled would just re-trigger everything - all the trauma - all the pain - all the pandemic brought us over again. And the leaders of Magik thought and thought with all their might and they came up with an incredible delight. They decided to put together a 30minute reader's theatre version on the full set with full lights and sound to give the children something - anything, really. And they pulled three of their full-time employees but they needed one more member for the cast. They needed someone to play Junie B. Jones. And so they called me. I had auditioned for them, previously, and they thought I could do it. They believed in me! And I believed in me! So I said yes, I would do it, and onward I went to this new adventure!
On Tuesday, we completed a walk through of the show including scenic, sound, and lighting changes, walking through a completely new script with three other brand new cast members (the head of human resources and two leaders of the education department - all with performance experience/backgrounds of course). Our rehearsal was approximately 30minutes long and then we opened the house to nearly 500 students who then watched our entirely new "world premier" of Junie B. Jones: Toothless Wonder - Reader's Theatre Edition. With scripts in hand, we lead the student through a wonder-filled experience and brought so much joy and laughter. They roared with applause and one child loudly screamed, "THAT WAS AWESOME!" I was hooked. I already knew I was hooked, but I had forgotten.
I forgot how incredibly rewarding chidlren's theatre is.
How expressive.
How fun.
How responsive the audiences are. How sweet. How honest. How kind. How delightful. How the parents and grandparents and chaperones always think that the shows are going to be just for the kids when we - in theatre for young audiences - know that we have to cater to multigenerational audiences. We put them all onstage- the parents, the teachers, the kids, and we prove to them they are worthy of having their stories told. That they are remarkable just as they are. That something as simple or domestic as fixing a toilet is full of wonder and magic.
I had 1 reader's theatre show Thursday morning, followed by a line through of the full production that afternoon. Compared to the 30minute version, this script seemed like a novel. A beast. And I was Junie B., the narrator, the thread, the backbone to it all, speaking 90% of the time. My body was tired. My throat was dry. My mind was racing. The other actors and crew held their hands out to me and said they would be with me every step of the way to push and pull me where I needed to be, to make sure I was safe, to make sure I had water. "What have I done?" I thought. "What did I sign up for?" I thought.
But I knew I could do it. I knew, being completely surrounded by the love and the support of the entire Magik staff. We could do it. Together. I wasn't alone in this.
On Friday, I had 1 performance of the reader's theatre version followed by a 4 hour technical rehearsal where I was walked through the full production with full lights, sounds, costumes, etc. I sat on the prop bed and wondered how I got to be so lucky as the stage manager/artistic director told me to "standby."
On Saturday, I had what one might call a "final dress" where we did a full run through of the show without stopping. We took an hour for lunch and then prepared for our 2:00pm public performance. The house was full. We had a walk in school group of about 150 people along with 110 from the general public. They were blown away. They were in love. They were absolutely delighted. The children roared and the adults snickered at the humor that brought them onstage.
At some point, on one of these days, as I was exiting off stage I heard a little girl's voice say, "Excuse me - " and I turned around to find that this small angel had found her way onto the stage and was walking toward me.
"Hi there, how can I help you?" I said.
"Can you sign this for me?" she asked, offering me her Junie B. Jones book.
"Of course!" She offered me a sharpie and I sat back down at my prop school table in my prop chair.
"What's your name?" I asked
"Juliana" she said
"How do you spell that, Juliana?" I asked. I sat and slowly started writing out her name on the page as she spelled it -
"J-U-L-I-A-N-A" she said,
"Thank you," I said, and I wrote "Dear Juliana, thank you for coming to the Magik theatre! - Junie B. Jones," and I signed my real name at the bottom. I tried not to worry if it was a library book and I said,
"There you go. Thank you so much for coming." She ran to her mother smiling and showing off her new miracle as another girl, older, perhaps around 11 or 12 appeared on my right and smiled, beaming at me, she asked,
"May I take a picture with you?"
"Of course!" I smiled, grateful for this moment, that surely was not allowed due to covid protocols, but grateful nonetheless,
"Thank you," she said, "You were amazing, by the way, you did a really, really great job" she pressed her words into me as if trying to say, "I need you to know that. I need you to know how great of a job you did." I thanked her and we posed together for the picture. Remembering the policy of children's theatre and how we have to be very careful when it comes to touch, I made sure my hands were visible in the picture and gave her bunny ears with my right hand. Her photographer laughed and they both smiled and waved as they walked away. Another little girl appeared on my left and asked for me to sign her program. She didn't have a sharpie, but I had a prop crayola marker that was functional, so I signed, a la Junie, in purple ink in her program. Her mother asked if she too could take a picture with me so I sat her down in my prop chair and I grabbed my prop journal and held it up as if to match her holding her program and we smiled at the camera together. Seeing this, I'm sure, the previous little girl, who's book I signed, returned to the stage to claim her picture as well. Seeing this, I'm sure, a small home-school group made their way to the stage. An angel of a parent, who was somehow holding the hands of 5-7 toddlers, made her way to me and beamed: "You don't understand. I read these books growing up. Me. I read them and I loved those books and you- you just did such an incredible job. I feel like a groupie standing up here right now. You are amazing." I smiled and thanked her for her kind words. "Do you think we could take a picture with you?" I arranged the prop chairs onstage in the light and more children appeared magically to join this small group. Some sat on the chairs and some stood in the back as I did my best to center myself amongst the energy of all of them. We smiled and said cheese and I felt a small hand on my leg. I looked down and found the tiniest human trying to hold onto me for dear life. Knowing the "don't hug them back rule" I was filled with a sadness that I couldn't give this little girl the hug back that she seemed to need, but I was grateful I could at least give her my performance and my smile and a friendly wave as she left the auditorium.
And through it all, I felt for the original Junie, so hard. Mentally, I thanked her, for going through every rehearsal, for memorizing every line, for every re-write she had to learn for the world premiere, for every hour of technical rehearsal she sat through so they could adjust the spotlight to her, how she probably had to run that one scene over and over and over before they got the scenic change right, how she had to be spun in her prop bed and somehow stay focused and not get dizzy, how she had to give everything, express with her entire body and words, and I thanked her, and only she and I can fully understand the care and the energy that it takes to bring this character to life. This story to life. And I just want to say, thank you. To her. To the team. To the audiences. To the script. To the universe. Thank you for this experience. Thank you for your trust in me to bring Junie to life. Thank you for your support through all of it, and, most of all, thank you for helping me appreciate it and take mental snapshots filled with gratitude as I lay 'fake sleeping' in my prop bed while the lights changed to blue and the tooth witches snuck onto the stage and did their witchy dance. Thank you for the laughs and the miracles and the strength and the stamina and the confidence and the play. Thank you to everyone onstage who helped make sure I was where I needed to be and who played with me and who held my hand. Thank you to the wardrobe team who made sure I always had water and knew my cues. Thank you to the director who said, "And today the role of Junie B. will be played by Amy Abrigo." And I felt like a star. And I thought, "Now-"
"I can do anything."
Goodbye, Mr. See
Because they can't give it to you
For whatever reason
Sometimes you just have to give yourself what you need
Because you'll never get that goodbye
you'll never get that last hug
that last kiss
you try to remember your last moments with them
what it was like
but you can't
you can't even remember
and that just makes it all worse
because you think
maybe
if you could remember
then somehow there would be some clue
some sign
that you missed
you review it
like a script
over and over
in your head
memorizing your part
trying to rephrase the lines
like maybe if you didn't hold him there
or didn't tell him how much you cared -
but there is no time
because it's too late
there is no 2nd bus
they've already closed the gate
the horses are asleep and the dogs put to bed
the only way you're still with him is in your dreams or your head
so you want to live there
you try to go there instead
but you can't live like this
you can't go on like this
there's so much more life to live
so many more words to give
So you have to create your own goodbye
So you close one or both of your eyes
And you take a deep breath
And you let out a light sigh
And you see him walking in
You see those eyes
You see that smile
You hear that laugh
You tell him
He tells you
And you say goodbye
"Goodbye," you say
"Goodbye."
Maybe you already have
But you’d never tell me
Would you?
Would you?
Please tell me if you do.
What I want?
Or did you never think to question?
Did you ever think about having a conversation with me?
Or did you never plan to let me decide?
You just decided for me
You didn’t even explicitly say it
I want you to tell me
Look me in the eyes
And tell me
You don’t love me.
You don’t want me.
You don’t wish I was with you right now.
You don’t wish you were back in my arms.
You don’t wish my bed sheets smelled like you.
You don’t wish I was covered in your cologne.
You don’t wish I was singing in your ear
You don’t wish I was holding you too near
And begging you not to let go
And you told me you wanted to stay
And you told me you didn’t want to leave
And you told me you didn’t want to let go
And I said then don’t
And you stayed
As long as you could
Not that there really is ever a good time
But damn
Did you have to wait until the day before I have every single evening free?
I mean, all this time – all this time I worked so hard to have evenings free
And the ones I had –
You never showed –
And now –
My calendar is wide open and the one person I want to spend it with is gone
Would that have helped?
If I had my own home?
Would that have helped?
If I was thinner?
Less clingy?
If I was better?
Smarter?
Wiser?
If I liked what you liked?
If I was less present?
No
No
That’s not what I want
That was the whole point
To stay true
To me
To you
To be who I am and not play pretend just for you
So I was honest
So I was true
But that was too real
Too much for you
Why did you ask me?
Why didn’t you try?
Why was it so easy for you to say goodbye?
Can’t we just pretend that everything is okay?
That you’ll be here at the end of every day?
Can’t you, won’t you make your fears wash away?
Please tell me this was all some terrible joke.
Tell me you pushed me away because you were broke.
But now you won the lotto and say that you’ll stay
Say that it was someone else who pushed me away
Tell me it was someone else and not you.
Tell me I’m really your dream come true.
Tell me you were wrong
Tell me I was right
Tell me you’re coming over, to kiss me goodnight.
Just tell me that you’re sure.
See me.
Look me in the eyes.
And tell me.
Tell me.
Are you sure?
And when you returned it to the librarian
she asked, “How did you like it?”
And you said, “I didn’t actually finish it”
And she said, “Why?
And you said, “I was too scared to know how it ended.”
And she looked at you with a puzzled face and she opened the cover and pulled out the card and saw the stamps of the different dates pressed into it, all the renewals, and she scanned the barcode and smiled, “Thank you for giving it a try,” she said.
For all the healing
Thank you
For creating a safe space
Thank you
For bringing me peace
Thank you
For all the breadcrumbs
Thank you
For all that you did give me
Thank you
For not keeping me waiting
When I showered,
I said Mo Jo Jo Jo's spell,
The one I usually do every time I shower,
"Anxieties - you cannot stay - as I wash my hair - I wash you away"
And I cried
Because I knew
If I washed them away
I was washing away you
And I cried
And I cried
Because I didn't want to cleanse myself of you