Having a Child Meant Imagining a New Way to Make Theater
I had to imagine an environment in which theater-making and parenting could not only coexist, but nourish and inform one another.
Yes, those are horses
The Art of Acting
OkayI like the color of the wall paint my husband chose for this room. It’s a very pale blue and is called Marilyn’s Dress. I like the grassy scent of the lanolin in the tube, the way it feels against my skin. I love my baby’s eyes, the ocean of them, the bits of gray.
Enter your email address to receive notifications for author Lindsey Trout Hughes
Confirmation link sent to your email to add you to notification list for author Lindsey Trout Hughes
More by this author
For me and my twin, the surprise was not our matching tumors, but that hers was malignant and mine was benign.
More in this series
While Ruth’s words— “where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay”—made for a heart-stilling pseudomarital vow, I was not selfless enough to promise the same.
I wanted to outrun the Nothing. And there was nothing I would not have sacrificed—friendships, relationships, the blood from the heel of my foot—to get it.
In my grief over my grandmother’s death, I derived solace from the idea that something could still be done to benefit her, that she hadn’t left us but was just in a different place.