Is This Thing On?

I’m rarin’ to go, just a pony chompin’ at the bit. Release me already; I’m ready to write!

But first, I have to start the dishwasher, organize Barbie dolls, and let the dog out to potty. 

Even with ideas a swirlin’, I can’t get to unfurlin’ them.

And then I get stage fright as the heat of the overhead light blackens out the crowd. Why now? I ask the writing gods, but they stay silent; they too, are in the audience wanting a show. 

I tap the mic. “Uh, hello.” 

At my voice, there’s a collective wince at technology’s high-pitched malfunction. 

I want to tell them that all my life, I’ve dreamt of being in this very spot and on this very stage. But I don’t want to do it like this, so I step to the stage’s front and take a seat.

Perhaps we could meet eyes; A more casual, more me approach.

I say, “That’s better,” to the faces that now feel like home, no longer washed out. “I’m having a hard time.” I’d tell them, surprised at the honesty of the revelation. 

“But I hope you understand and know I’m doing my best.”

Then I’d smile and say, “Thank you for listening,” and “I appreciate you being here.” And then I’d stand, but before I turned to go, I’d say, “I’ll see you here tomorrow.” 

Love always, Jaclynn