Julie Jordan Scott
I wore Rosemary's nightgown to bed last night. I love how soft it feels against my skin, sort of like how I like to feel Rosemary's heart beating inside my heart.
I don't want to give her up.
My intellect knows she isn't going anywhere, that she is always with me now - like Miss Shields and Jack's Mom and Fraulein Schneider and Blair Daniels - even my other Rosemary, Rosemary Mortimore. They're all within me still.
My spirit, on the other hand, doesn't want to put her aside, where she won't be visible to others anymore. She wants more time with her. Three more performances? That's it?
I brought home my costumes yesterday, time to wash them. It was a long, trying day and it felt like the perfect choice, to cradle myself in Rosemary's nightgown before the closing weekend. Three of her costumes are my own things, including this nightgown I am still wearing, while the morning is still young.
I didn't put my hair in pin curls, I didn't don a Japanese robe, but I will continue to wear this tangible reminder of Rosemary until I have to face the outside world.
My prayer for today> No "stuff" or "extraneous business" or "anybody's anything" will get in the way of my deepest relationship with my beloved Rosemary Sydney.
I just realized I have come to think of her as more than just a character, I think of her like a dear friend, a beloved friend, a soul friend who is so connected to you that sometimes you feel like she is you and you are her.
Ohhhh, yes. I just had a second "a-ha". My second prayer is that sometime after January, I find a character to love just as much as I love her.
Rosemary - she loves pinks and soft shades of muted red. She doesn't like to be called "Rosie." She loves pretty vlothes and pretty "things" - always feels like wearing pretty garments somehow elevates her above her ordinary ways. She is sad and hurt underneath her vivacious exterior and rarely lets that other side show. Rosemary, like Craig said when we first met, is something of "a voluptuous vixen with a deep, dark secret."
Rosemary, I will miss you.
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Only one more weekend to see "Picnic", written by William Inge and Directed by Barry Wolcott. “Picnic” was the Pulitzer Prize winner in 1953. It explores the hopes, fears, excitement and sorrow of following our dreams while we make choices that impact the ones we love. It is playing at Bakersfield Community Theatre. Call 831-8114 for reservations and further details.