To miss or not to miss

I won’t miss sharing a house with 11 other people.

I will miss those people.

I won’t miss wiping off the remnants of last night’s make up so I can put on today’s.

I will miss wearing a tutu in public. Daily.

I won’t miss carrying a backpack full of clothes everywhere.

I will miss being able to walk everywhere.

I won’t miss exhaustion, no rest, constant scheduled mayhem.

I will miss Phoebe writing my daily schedule and sticking it to the fridge. And I will miss Phoebe, her humour, directness, love of gin and appreciation of wonderful cabaret. I will miss her humouring my nightly checks that it was a good show, and my nightly quests to stalk yet another lesbian comedian.

I won’t miss the songs Jenni makes up before 11am – the most memorable was ‘Oh no my shirt’s still wet’.

I will miss her joyful singing when it occurs at a respectable hour.

I won’t miss the pressure to do and see and much as humanly possible.

I will miss being constantly surrounded by art, music, humour, play, inspiration, and joy.

In a way, I already miss not knowing what this adventure would hold. All that hope and unknown has been replaced by memories and fact. But I am already plotting the next adventure, the next step in this absurd career, this bizarre lifestyle choice. And so the planning and dreaming and wishin’ and hopin’ becomes a constant. And it’s the reason I am doing this. Because despite exhaustion and mess and irritation and nerves and fear and stress and empty bank accounts, the promise of doing something like this again is completely exhilarating.

xxx Maeve

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