I’m not feeling sorry for myself, dear friends. And I’m not asking you to feel sorry for me. I’m just being honest. Today was the first time I really hit the wall with homesickness. I’ve had bouts of it before during my seven weeks away from home. Today is another thing entirely. Today is tears, sadness, more tears, thinking about my sweet dogs, my husband, my garden – home.
I have 3 weeks left here. I have a little more work to do on these productions, but not much. Frankly, I could leave in a few days and all would be well. I would not be honoring my contract, however, and I am true to my word. I think that is what makes this particular stretch harder: the knowledge that I’m not really needed much longer yet I have to hang in there for 3 more weeks.
I’m not as busy as I was when we were in rehearsals all day. So I have more free time. That sounds as if it is a good thing, but more free time equals more time to think about my far away family.
Ah well. As my mother used to say, “this too shall pass.” At least I think it was my mother. She may well read this and say to me, “I never said anything like that.”
I already feel a little better. Writing is always cathartic for me.
3 weeks and counting…
