Interpretation by Danielle Cahlander
During non-Covid times I’m a theatre person. I’ve made more than several appearances on stage as an actor and off stage as a director. So when I woke up one morning to find this poem whirling around in my head, SHE felt like a character. Like someone I was observing or possibly portraying.
I wrote the poem down with a bit of a giggle and thought—It would be so fun to write a whole series of these! And obviously I did.
If you’ve been following this 52-week collaboration of poems-turned-art on Facebook or Instagram you’ve witnessed the birth and growth of 50 characters. There are still two more waiting behind the curtain, but this one is special because it’s my firstborn. My fledgling. The one that launched me into a written world of messy, magnificent female characters, personalities, and circumstances.
I’m not an actual parent of any human babies but, hey—these are my girls. Seeing them express and reveal themselves each week through the eyes and hearts of other messy, magnificent women has surprised, humbled, and wowed me, sometimes to the embarrassing point of tears. Look at my babies, I blubber, aren’t they just AMAZING?
With only two more weeks to go til graduation I find myself feeling like an empty-nester. What will I do when they’re gone? I feel the same kind of nervous despair after a theatre production ends. No rehearsals? No costume fittings? No hairstyle and character research? No performances?
Be like the fledgling bird or actor I tell myself—eyes closed, attempting to embody a zen-like manner, which is not one of my personal strengths.
Launch. Fall on your ass. Keep going.