My Life in Theatre
I was one of six or ten or twenty rabbits in a Spring Festival play which occurs to me now as a Midsummer Night’s Dream, for I remember myself hopping in & out of my awkward squatting, with ambivalent darkness flailing either side of me.
I was six years old. I wore white shirt & brown shorts with white socks and I hopped in my sandals. There was a white bob sewed onto my seat. We made our appearance in the wake of pixies who danced with farmers, who sang a song which was applauded by the parents & friends of the school. I’m leading up only to the confession: my shorts burst their seams. We had been applauded enthusiastically as we emerged from the dark perimeter of the one-room school’s long garden. Now I was assailed with the infectious laughter that escapes from numerous hand-sealed mouths. I was the last rabbit to hop across the infinite expanse of the dewy lawn. My mother caught me as I lost my way. Upon my belated exit, legitimate applause swelled up once more.
from My Life in Theatre, (River Road Press, 2009), Kris Hemensley, used by permission of the author. The recording is taken from My Life in Theatre (River Road Press, 2009) Kris Hemensley/River Road Press, 2009