I’m at my school today. Not where I teach, but where I went to college. I’m a judge for the district drama rally in the same theatre where I performed in my first play and most of my first dozen. I’ve been here since. I’ve seen other shows, concerts. I was here last week.
Today feels different.
Today I had the time to walk around. To look at everything. To see the paintings that have been hanging I’m these halls for at least 16 years, and probably many more. The giant sign for the campus radio station I used to look at through the booth window when Jason and I hosted our show. Collages of photographs from so many plays that feature my stunningly youthful face smiling back at me. I remember being that kid. I remember how I thought everything I did then was so important.
I remember flecks of paint, the grains of the wood, rust spots on the green room refrigerator. The fold of the curtain, the “break in case of fire” station just offstage, the rickety metal ladder that I was always terrified to climb, but I did over and over again.
I feel a little overwhelmed.
I forgot what this place means to me. How much I love it. How responsible it is for the man I am today. I want to step into those pictures with 19 year old Blake so I can warn him about the mistakes, but also so I could thank him for all the things he did right.
They say you can’t go home again. And they’re usually right. But that doesn’t mean it’s not nice to visit.
Evertime Realms 
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