Sunday, April 20, 2014

Monologue Mania by Janet S. Tiger A Rose From Death Day # 67

Monologue Mania by Janet S. Tiger   Day # 67 Apr. 20, 2014
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Happy Easter to all celebrating today!

                    A Rose From Death   (c)                 
                                        by Janet S. Tiger

                                    © 2014 all rights reserved

                                      tigerteam1@gmail.com
 
            (A woman comes onstage, she walks carefully, maybe with a walker if you can find one,                     a cane if not.  She looks at the audience, waves)

For all you out there in TV land, I have brought flowers for the entire audience, in honor of Easter.  And why this is a special day.  A few years ago, it was Good Friday, but not really.  In the middle of the night, just after the beginning of Good Friday, there was a fire in the retirement home where I reside.

It appears Mr. Meecham could not go to sleep without a cigarette, and so, he disabled the smoke alarms, and lit up, the old darling.

The result, after he fell asleep, was not good at all, in fact, he almost died.  And, so for that matter, did the rest of us.  But our own Beverly Hillbilly, Jethro, that nice young man who helped me here today, he pulled all 26 of us out of that burning building.  Including idiot Meecham, who suffered from smoke inhalation, but, with the wisdom of a man who still does not care, continues  to smoke nonetheless.

Our lovely establishment was burned, and sadly, so were the grounds, including the beautiful flowers and bushes surrounding our residence, which made looking out the windows so lovely.

Luckily, the bushes and grounds had formed a type of boundary, where the brave firemen fought the flames and won, before the second building – Building B – could be burned as well, so, although it was very sad, we were able to double up with the others for that night, until they were able to clean up and rebuild the smoked out rooms.

On Easter Sunday, we had our services outside for sunrise, and the nice pastor came, and it didn’t rain, the sun peaked out at us.  Amidst the charred bushes, and the withered vines, there was suddenly a gust of wind, and some of the burnt leaves blew off of a rose bush……and there, as if painted by the hand of God himself, was a perfect rose!

It had survived somehow, in the ashes, perhaps because the burned foliage had protected it, who knows?  But we all smiled, and knew that no matter what, all would be well. 

A rose from death…..a perfect moment for Easter.

And a perfect time to realize that, even though I am almost 85, I was going to do something for my birthday that week, that I had hoped to do when I was much younger, but decided was too dangerous.

            (She takes a deep breath)

I decided to go skydiving.  My thinking was that if the rose could live through the fire I could do anything, too!

And I went.  Up in a tiny plane, high in the sky, accompanied by my granddaughter, who thought I was crazy, but was going with me as support – and because my daughter would not give permission otherwise!

            (She is reverent)

How beautiful it was! And the young man going with us was so handsome! In the plane, I felt…so young…..just like a bird!  
            (Listens)

Did I jump? 

            (Laughs)

Of course not!  Do I look that crazy?

I mean, I went up there, and realized the rose lived through the fire, but so did I, and that was enough for me!

I stayed in the airplane while the handsome young man jumped with my granddaughter……and now, two years later, they are getting married.

So, the morale is……if you get a rose from death, take it and run with it, and love it, because it is a gift……

Thank you….

            (She exits, looking back0

I know all the people who come on this show have something else to say when they leave….but I don’t!  Oh, wait a minute, I do!

(She removes a paper from the walker or cane’s carrying bag.  She reads)


Of all the gifts I got from death
I found that one I chose

Surprised me by its beauty
It was a lovely rose

It smiled at me one morning
I picked it there and then

And put it on my table
As if it were a friend

The other presents I received
Came quietly at best

The hope of resurrection
And the chance for peaceful rest

So I am glad to share my rose
That I kiss with my last breath

I won’t regret one moment
Since I got … A rose from death…..


            (The woman puts away the paper, smiles, and really exits)


            (The end.)



Janet S. Tiger    858-274-9678
www.JanetSTiger.weebly.com
Member Dramatists Guild since 1983
Playwright-in-Residence
Swedenborg Hall 2006-8
 


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