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And the curtain falls.

Exhaustion does not do my body justice. It's a combination of soreness, ache, both mental and physical and hunger. Throw in lack of sleep and you've got a party. But I am contented.

La Boheme is over.

I got out of my car this morning, sunday morning, and heard the tweleve o'clock bells. It made me smile, thinking of the snow bag, and Lloyd, who works the fly system. Every time I come up he asks if I'm getting paid. No, I respond, not yet.

This was my last opera with this company. My last full opera, there are a few other things, a chorale version of MacBeth for one, and the Stage manager says she can use me for other things, but Boheme was my last full opera, with sets and costumes and movement. I watched the final movement. I watched the curtain fall.

It's joyful, but it's desperately saddening at the same time. Never again can this be reproduced, not with the same people, the same sets, the same audience. There is a true magic about any type of theater, how it can never ever be re created. So it's terribly special while it lasts.

We cleaned up the theater, packed stuff away, washed dishes--I washed dishes, rather--and I spent half an hour or so talking to the Lighting Designer, a man with whom I have worked before. We talked about lighting--it's an art, though many people don't realize it. But then, it's not supposed to be appreciated. Stage management is a funny thing. There's no gratitude, there's now awknowledgement and the people who work the hardest, work so that what they do cannot be seen.

As I walked out to my car with the Stage Manager, the Assistant Stage Manager and the Lighting Designer, something happened. We were laughing, joking, and then right after we split off for our sperate vehicles....it was like a movie.

The bells began to ring.