Lara Reyes-Terry | Week 15 | Crying at Denny’s
I won’t remember the B² of bones and bruises, the first time I limped through a number, pain became mathematical because pain became the enemy.
I won’t remember the coast and the ice, the polar bears’ eyes magnetic emptiness as the erosion pulled him away into the call of a cornered world, away from the curious eyes of a species he couldn’t recognize.
I won’t remember the wind on my back from the door, the curtain, the passing body.
I won’t remember the laughlessness that followed.
I won’t remember the wandering, the lonely discovery of a hall without strangers, how the orbiting forms, pearlish moon and homely earth, will eventually fall away from one another
I won’t remember the sluggish crawl of time, the knocking head against the wall: once, twice, thrice, three seconds gone, four hours left to go.
I’ll remember the first applause, like first clap of thunder, it shocks something spiritual out of you, your body knew it from something deeper.
I won’t remember the leaving under cold breath of the horizon’s shut eyes,
But I’ll remember the stars.
I’ll remember the first flowers.
I won’t remember longing to know what a yawp feels like (“I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world”),
But I’ll remember screaming into the mouth of the school’s shadow six times, the swinging weight of my castmate in my arms.
I won’t remember the heaving, chugging water backstage because I could feel something beyond me creeping in.
I won’t remember my laughter, apologies for jokes a friend told me I need to stop making
(I won’t, I’m sorry).
I’ll remember the many “detentions” I got, I forget when we started doing that, but when something clicks it clicks
(In this case, Mr. Duval’s pen).
I’ll remember the late night threads, we could weave a blanket of words to keep us all warm next time we get together
(Will we ever?)
I’ll remember the real doodles on that notebook that I meant to keep for scrapbooking.
I’ll remember the wig snatching, the attempts to reenact memes onstage.
I’ll remember the harmonies, how to tune your own vocals, how to take care of your voice.
I’ll remember the journal I started writing in again.
I’ll remember the mac and cheese and how damn oily it was but also how we didn’t care because it tasted good for the first twenty minutes.
I’ll remember the candle.
I’ll remember the crying, the shape of our voices strong enough to make clear the familial grief.
I’ll remember the hugs, like we’d never see one another again
(We’d see nearly everyone the coming Monday)
I’ll remember the people, full eyes and smiles I cannot hope to memorize on my own
(Damn the Artist’s Curse, I’ll at least have something to hold on of you once these memories are too far for us to still be “us”)
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For context, post closing night the cast, crew, and orchestra (the majority of us) went to eat at Denny’s and we were there until 2:00am. It was the best day of my life.
Image: https://unsplash.com/photos/a-sign-for-a-restaurant-called-dennys-diner-6HAZMYvsXFs
Hi Lara! This was such a fun read. Although I could definitely feel the bittersweet feeling you probably felt while reading the blog. I thoroughly enjoyed the format you used this week. The repeating of “I won’t remember” to address the not so appealing events. Saying “I won’t remember” specifically is an indication that something else, worth the space in your hippocampus, outweighs the significance of more monotonous moments. This was seen through all the “I’ll remember” lines. I am so excited I could actually visualize what you were talking about since I watched the musical. By the way, you were so awesome in the musical. I wanted to say hello to you afterwards but then my friends and I made a mad rush to get to IHOP (which I suppose is my Denny’s in this case).
ReplyDeleteSomething I found interesting was when you wrote that you would forget having to chug your “water backstage” before an out of body experience possessed you, I was flooded by memories of the same thing but on the field and for marching band. Those grueling rehearsals certainly had fun elements to it. People laughing and running around. Tiktok dances being simultaneously learned alongside show choreography. Those are memories I know I don’t want to forget. However, my mind still holds space to store the arduous moments. There are ugly memories of me upset because of how much work and effort I had to put into band but those make up the experience too. The hard and the good are all relevant to the experience, but my mind is definitely more susceptible to prioritizing the good.
I know the feeling all too well, you’ve just got done with a major performance and your group has gone out to eat. It’ll always be some chain restaurant that’s open late where only truck drivers and the occasional suspicious man will hang out. Nonetheless, the experience is pure bliss. It’s things like the arts that will bring together the most obscure group of people. I believe that’s why they hold such power in our development. Without interpretation there is nothing to test the limits of reality.
ReplyDeleteI found it funny how many of the things you claimed you “won’t remember” outnumbered the things that you “will remember.” It goes to show how the weirdest events can hold the greatest memories. I remember while I was rehearsing for a musical my dance team was performing in, it was 11:00 pm on a Wednesday night and we all stopped functioning two hours before. But one of the moms brought us a small tray of homemade food. Although it wasn’t much, the warm feeling I got when we all sat in a circle and passed around the tray can never be replaced.
Something I’ll miss when we graduate are small moments like these which I feel only come when we’re at this age. The feeling of being part of a greater whole. I’m really glad that you felt this through the cast and crew of the musical. Also hats off to you all the production of Mean Girls was amazing.
Lara, while your blog is perfectly tailored to your own numerous experiences of being Mr. Buck for the musical, this really resonated with me and my own experiences from marching band (like Harshi!). After all, seeing that Denny’s sign hit me with a wave of memories from my winter season in band a couple years ago: one of the band’s traditions is crashing Denny’s late at night after the final competition of the year.
ReplyDeleteI’m always enthralled by the way in which you describe things, and this is especially true for your own experiences here. I practically feel like I’m existing in that space with you as I read these lines. The discovery of that empty hall (700 wing presumably) reminds me just of band. Staying back at school until 1 in the morning after a 20-hour competition day to unload equipment was crazy—the “sluggish crawl of time,” counting the hours left in rehearsal, and “chugging water” to alleviate what seemed to be “creeping in,” it all feels like my time in marching band is coming back to me all at once! While these moments are definitely cemented in my body from the numerous times I’ve been trudging my way through band rehearsal over three years, I deeply appreciate how you’ve reframed these as things you won’t remember. Those uniquely tender moments, striking applauses, inside jokes, and the Monday that we would all undoubtedly see each other again—it’s all truly part of the experience. We work real hard to make a show, but what really sticks with us is the fonder memories that live on. Thank you for this Lara!
(P.S. great job with Mean Girls!!)
The post–performance or –competition or –exam night out with friends has got to be one of the best feelings ever. Nothing like laughing and crying with dozens of other similarly-aged humans while the restaurant staff quietly walk by, most definitely hearing every joke you incoherently babble out. In a more personal experience, I drank 4 entire glasses of water (much to everyone’s incredible distress) in record breaking speed at a restaurant after our Science Olympiad state competition a few weeks ago.
ReplyDeleteI love how the initial lines of “I won’t remember” provided a distinctly anxious tone to your initial experience, and then were immediately contrasted with your exhilarating depiction of “the first applause.” From then on, the experiences you remember only became more positive, culminating at the fateful Denny’s. But I am sure that the audience will remember the incredible dedication and performance of you and everyone else in AHSPA.
But you know what *I* remember? The way you say my name ha ha h[two drums and a cymbal fall from the ceiling killing me instantly
(please god someone get the reference aside from my blog 13 title…)