'A life Worth Living' . A One Act Play

Scene One
Actor dressed as a woman at retirement age is packing pieces from her dresser into a large trunk. As she rummages through a small box she picks up an old fashioned round mirror and gazes into it at her reflection.
The light dims and when it comes back on the Actor appears dressed as a child, with pig tails or a band in her hair. Stands where the old lady stood a moment ago.
As she gazes into the mirror it brings back memories of her childhood. As she smiles and reminisces she begins a conversation with her Mother, whilst looking into the mirror.
' Do you remember when you gave me this mirror, Mum? I was only 10 years old and my best friend Robin was leaving Perth and going to Sydney with her family. I was inconsolable but you held me and hugged me and wiped my tears away. It was all so easy when I was a child, you could wipe away my tears when I was hurt. Just by looking at my face as I’m doing now you knew how to help me even when you could no longer hold me in your arms and kiss away the hurt. Just your simple act of combing my hair gave me a sense of warmth and love and security'.
Twirls her hair with her fingers in child like gesture. Laughs.
'Sometimes I would bounce Matilda my favourite doll on my lap. Until too many baths in the outside loo destroyed her pretty face and hair.

'Do you remember how disappointed I was when I discovered I had grown too big to sit on Daddy’s knee? Just like Diesel our old German Shepherd; he was huge but still thought he could jump up on laps.
As I grew up, even this mirror became too big for me to see your hands and face together. Sometimes I could only see your hands which held the same warmth and security as your face'. Giggles at the pleasant memories.
'But you and I could see each other’s reflection if we held our faces very close to this mirror, couldn’t we?'
Slowly she packs away the mirror as the Light fades

Scene Two (Who am I?)

Actor is now dressed as an adolescent. She sits at a stage mirror flanked with lights at the top. The mirror shows how one changes from one person to another in front of the mirror simply by applying make up. The young woman is afraid to show her real self. If people knew who she really was underneath it could spoil things. She may not be accepted for who she really is.

Oh this mirror was great for masking me. It was really scary out there, meeting guys, being afraid to show the real me. Love seemed very dangerous. Pause

What if I showed the real me and it spoiled things? I might lose Jason the most popular guy in College if I was honest.

I didn’t like the ‘me’ that was revealed in the mirror. Funny how, as I put on my makeup in this mirror, the outside changed from one person to another, just the way I wanted to be on the inside.

I always saw myself as someone else, someone prettier, more intelligent, and nicer. More popular and vivacious. Perks up her boobs and tosses hair back. So I denied you because I didn’t like the image you presented.
Looks deeply into the mirror.
I lost myself somewhere along the way but when I came to you, I could make myself the way I wanted to be.
Pauses. Takes a piece of paper from the dresser. It is a poem.

Oh I remember writing this.

AN UNPOEM
I'm wearing a mask and I play to the crowds
in their adulation I bask.
The more they laugh, the more I'm inspired
to be who they want me to be.
Would the crowd still love me, if they could see inside my head
see the fear, the lonely child within
who was once so dear.
On the outside the light shines brighter
while inside it grows darker
until in the midst of the crowd’s sighs
the real me
dies.

Turns mirror or switches off the lights. Walks away, shaking her head as light fades,


Scene Three

This time when the Spotlight is turned on the actor is dressed a little older, she is now a Mum. She rummages through her handbag which is sitting on the Dresser. She comes across the lipstick mirror she has used since she was a wife and mother.
She remembers smacking her lipstick on. Sometimes the smack was a determined one, sometimes fearful, angry, sad or concerned.
She holds up the lipstick mirror and peers in to it smiling. She talks at times to the mirror and at other times looks out at the audience.

Oh hello you. You were such a little lifesaver! All I could see in you were my lips as I smacked them together. You didn’t show me the lines marching across my forehead and taking up residency, or the grey hairs that were infiltrating and taking over my blonde locks, not to mention my chin.
All you did was show me whether the lipstick I had applied was smudged or not.

Pauses, touches up her lips with lipstick and smacks her lips together, wiping the corners of her lips and checking her teeth.

You were such a handy little mirror. I remember the day I desperately needed to look beautiful. Peter my husband had asked me to come to his office and bring him a file he had left behind. As usual I left in a rush after depositing the kids at school. I was determined I was going to look good. Sally his secretary was just so damned gorgeous with all that hair and a beauty spot- false of course- She adds disdainfully.
Not that a mere man would notice, all they see is that gorgeous young face and that red lipstick. Oh, and not to mention those two pert boobs she had. I applied a new bright red lipstick that day and smacked my lips in a sultry, ‘look out Sally’ kinda way. Peter is MINE. Looking at my lips in this mirror, I felt so confident.

Turns the mirror around and back again.

I loved being a mother. Well most of the time anyway. I remember the day I was called to the Principal’s Office because one of the kids was in trouble. Should I side with my child who I knew could do no wrong or agree with the principal, ‘yes he needed a bit more discipline from his father’. I was so nervous, wonder why it is that even as adults Teachers and Principals can put the fear of God in us. Then I remembered my mother’s words, ‘always put you’re lippy on, then you are prepared to face the world’. I put it on with a determined ‘smack’ and yep I felt as if I could take on the entire Education Department.

Pauses, then looks embarrassed. Looks out at the audience as she remembers.

Then there was that time I looked in the mirror with a sultry pouty smack as I pasted on that violet lipstick. Throws head back then gives a sultry pout in the mirror.
I knew exactly how to do it. After all, I practiced and practiced the smack in this very mirror. I planned a romantic, sexy evening with Peter. I’d packed the kids off to their grandparents and filled the fridge with tasty nibbles and lots of wine. When he came to the front door from work, there I stood in my sexy suspenders and my hired French maid’s costume mouthing the words Hi sexy are you up for a good time tonight?
Oh the look on his face! He went bright red, then a kinda ‘whiter shade of pale’. AND standing right behind him was his boss. What an embarrassment, I thought I’d never live that little disaster down.

Pause
One day I put on my brightest ever lipstick and smacked my lips together twice for good luck. I was going to the Doc for one of those horrible female checkups. Of course he wasn’t looking anywhere near my face at the time. But I felt dressed. I was wearing my bright ‘smart looking faced woman’ lipstick.’

Pause, looks sad. Looks deeply into the mirror and begins speaking in to it.

Do you remember the day I put on my lipstick and smudged it? I was going to Dad’s funeral and I couldn’t hold back the tears. Not even the old familiar act of putting on lippy helped me that day.

Has a final loving memory and looks at the audience.
Most days I had to have that lippy just right. But not with my children and grandchildren. When they gave me their sticky kisses it could be as smudged as it liked. I returned them wholeheartedly, or I blew bubbles on their tummies.
(Woman is smiling and gazing into the mirror, caught up in her memories as the light fades).

Scene 4

The actor is an older woman and is dressed as she was at the beginning of the play. She has almost finished packing.
When the spot light is turned on her she is standing in front of a full length mirror. She looks into the mirror and starts to speak to herself.

Well old girl, we have come full circle. What have we learned in this journey called life?
Its winter now and the winter of your life. Just as the snow buries everything its time to bury your past and all the baggage you’ve carried. The only baggage you need now is your suitcase and a few precious old friends for your new home at the SUNSHINE AND SMILES Retirement Village. Leans over and touches the Trunk.

Smiles into the mirror
This is the last time I will stand in this house and see myself this way. Peers closer into the mirror. Hmm, and is that my mother I see looking back at me?

Looks closer into the full length mirror and smiles. Has a sip of champagne.
Look at how your body has changed. Hmm, I remember the fantastic feeling of having a cleavage during my pregnancies which was never there when I wasn’t pregnant. Shame I had the bump though, just when I could take advantage and show off this sexy cleavage.

Oh and then later those hot flushes, they were the pits. I felt as if I had an inbuilt furnace. Laughs out loud. I was babysitting when I had the first one. I thought the weather was changing and getting hot and cold. The poor baby, I kept taking off her blanket and covering her up again. (Rolls eyes, shakes head.)
Takes another sip of champagne.

Examines her body in the Mirror.
Touches her tummy. Hmm, when did you appear? Raises her arms to adjust her hair with hands. Then sees the loose flesh under her arms.
This jelly on my arms wasn’t invited, but there isn’t much I can do about it now. Still you don’t have to keep wobbling every time I lift my arms, do you?
And when exactly was it my boobs started wandering down toward my stomach.
Never mind at least I can’t see my sagging behind.
Adjusts her bra straps, pushes boobs up with her cupped hands
Ah well, this is just me on the outside.

Finishes off the glass of champagne and toasts herself
Here is to my ‘best me’ and a new chapter with different experiences. From here on in we are going to free fall and not waste a moment of this gift called Life.
Puts on her hat, picks up her handbag, and straightens up. Has one last look in the mirror.
All masks are off, I love you my friend, you know everything, don’t you? All my little secrets and foibles. You know about all my little catastrophes, but along the way there was love and laughter. And you know we have made it in a most glorious way.
End. Curtain Falls
.

That which does not kill you, will make you stronger

My son has a propensity toward surprises. A good surprise would be the one where he hired a limousine and took us out to a revolving restuarant in Perth for Jamie's birthday. Today was a surprise of different proportions. A few months back he 'shocked' his mother when he announced he had bought himself a motor bike. 'not too big Mum, only 250cc.' (I think that's what he said, my brain was rather muddled at the time). Anyhow I came to terms with this fact and said just don't tell me when you are out riding it.
Today we went over to his house for a visit. He asked me to try on the helmet and the jacket and gloves I would wear if I were ever to venture on to his bike. 'you look great Mum, how about a ride now you are all dressed up and ready.' He looked so excited I just couldn't make an excuse not to, although a couple of reasons did spring to mind.
I have to say both he and I were very impressed by the way I was able to hop straight on to the bike and seat myself.
Sami and Jamie waved us goodbye and off we sped. Actually the ride was great, we rode along the beach front and I was even able to open my eyes and enjoy the view. There is something about riding free with the wind in your hair, or is it the people you pass by and you imagine how they must envy you. Anyhow it was a fun trip. When we arrived back home Jamie thought he should have a turn also. 'Che Guevara rode a motor bike' he declared. I wasn't sure what that had to do with anything but off they went and he too enjoyed his ride with Nath.
Afterwards Jamie and I discussed the trips we would like to take when I retire from work. We chose buses, trains and a car, strangely enough motor bikes didnt enter our thoughts.
Still I will ride again with Nath, I think he was proud of us and I'm certainly proud of me.
Glen

finding my father

The new grey granite Headstone marking the grave of my Father’s parents in the Fremantle cemetery stands upright. Twelve months before my father died he paid to have his parent’s grave tidied up and the head stone refurbished. He didn’t realize how soon he would be ready to go to his last resting place. However, things didn’t work out exactly as he had planned. When my father succumbed to a stroke in 1999 my brother was in charge of all the funeral arrangements and his burial site. I trusted him. After all how difficult can it be to ensure a person’s ashes are placed where they are intended? For some time afterwards I imagined my father resting peacefully with his ancestors in the recently restored family grave.

I am not one for visiting cemeteries unless I have to attend a funeral or am doing some genealogy research. This however, happens infrequently. Although, in the last twelve months, I have been to more funerals than in the last ten years.
One day, my husband Jamie and I decided to go and visit father’s grave with my cousin. We found the gravesite with the name of my father’s parents and long gone brothers and sisters. Imagine our consternation when we saw no mention of my father. He was not where he should have been.

We decided the best option was to split up and search for him; well…. his resting place anyway. Fremantle cemetery was established in 1896, so there were many graves to peruse. Jamie and my cousin began searching all the headstones in the Baptist section. I walked across to the Methodist section where my mother’s ashes had been interred with her parents. No, there was no father there.
Slowly I continued my quest, enjoying the peace and quiet as I strolled through this last resting place of so many people. I wondered about those who had once lived and loved, worked, now gone, living on only in the memories of families and friends left behind.

Some graves had been left bare and desolate for years. Others were covered in plastic flowers, (dust collectors are what my mother called them). Some were tended often with tender loving care, as evidenced by the vases of fresh flowers and lack of weeds.
Yet others were worn with the passing of time, their named almost erased. No longer were there any loved ones left alive to tend their graves.
The inscriptions reminded me that death has no respect for age. The graves of little children and babies were identified by the statues of angels. Some born in the early days of settlement when the dry harsh land had been too hard and they had succumbed to illnesses that are unheard of these days.

I looked up at the sky washed in a multitude of hues; dusk was approaching. In the distance, a glimpse of the Indian Ocean reflecting the sun’s rays could be seen.
Suddenly I was brought back into the present when my mobile phone rang.
‘Come back,’ said Jamie. ‘We have found your father.’ Of course he meant the place where his ashes had been buried. I hurried back and as I ran I noticed some people looking at me as though running is out of place in a cemetery. Which I dare say might be. I hurried through the grounds, past the large trees, their leaves dappled by the fading sunlight. Branches spread out, protecting, covering those who lay beneath. Finally I reached the pair. They were quite close to the family gravesite but at a different grave.

Instead of being buried with his parents my father’s ashes had been placed with another part of our family, a part that we had long ago lost contact with. Standing and gazing at the spot we were very impressed.
Hi Dad’, I whispered, I thought of all the words we’d never said, now left unspoken.
‘Perhaps you can get to know these long lost relations,’ was all I could say.
‘This is a lovely spot’, murmured my cousin. ‘I wouldn’t mind being buried here.’
‘Neither would I’ was my husband’s response.
The grave was under a huge tree with shade for protection during our hot summers. It was only a few metres away from my father’s family and my mother’s grave was close by. I could imagine him peacefully at rest during the long nights, close to his family. Perhaps even closer than in life.

We decided not to have his ashes moved. We would leave my father where he was.
I don’t suppose the current occupant is really bothered, although I do wonder what the owners of the grave think when they visit and see a person with the same name as theirs, yet a stranger, buried in their family plot.