The last week of July is
Rather significant in our household

Four years ago yesterday I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia
For the past four years
I have resented people who believed cancer was a blessing
It changed my life for the better!
It completely altered my outlook on life!
I’m a better person!

Cancer did not feel like a blessing to me
For the past four years, I have often felt robbed and angry
Cancer stole my health, my singing voice, my self-confidence, my libido
It gave me early onset menopause and the pre-cursor to osteoporosis
It made my thyroid stop functioning and my fingernails fall off one by one
It made my pre-existing anxiety and depression a million times worse
It set me back in achieving my goals and dreams of becoming a professional actor

When I step away from the anger
I can see that cancer has given me extraordinary gifts
I was in the right place at the right time for a terrible thing to happen
We were surrounded by an incredible community of people
I had access to one of the best cancer centers in the world
I have met all kinds of lovely wonderful people who have supported me, inspired me, lifted me up, and given me hope
All the incredible people at Memorial Sloan Kettering, my friends at CancerCare, my Immerman’s Angel Jodi, everyone at Fred’s Team
I wrote a one woman show
I ran a marathon

Although the cocktail of chemo infused with morphine made the first few weeks of treatment hazy
I remember kindness and patience and love
Jesse massaging my feet and bringing me all kinds of beverages to see what didn’t taste like poison
Brenda and her calming presence
Jarvis and UNSW friends recording stories for me to listen to
Nina and the paper cranes
Deb and Adrienne and Emma
Dozens of hand colored mandalas from camp
Letters and cards and emails and messages and financial support from all over the world
Anita enduring uncomfortable procedures to give me her stem cells

And through it all
Aaron has stayed by my side
Sleeping in a makeshift cot beside my hospital bed
Flushing my pick line when I had chemo at home
Holding my hand and patting my head through multiple bone marrow biopsies
Constantly telling me how much he loved me and treating me like I was the most beautiful wonderful person in the world even though I was a nauseous, fingernail-less, infuriated monster
He was, and is, kindness, patience, and love

This week is also our re-meeting anniversary
In the Connecticut woods
Surrounded by fireflies and a crackling sky
We saw each other
Him: Oh you’re back…
Me: Oh you’re back! Where’s Emily?
Him: We got a divorce… Where’s Kris?
Me: We never made it down the aisle.
I insisted I was not interested in a long distance or long term relationship.
This was strictly a summer fling.
​I was moving to London and independent and free…

And seven years later we’re still together.
Been married for almost five.
Survived cancer for four.
My patient, kind, loving, and wonderful husband

To celebrate our anniversary, we saw the extraordinary Won’t You Be My Neighbor?
Kindness and love and regard for human dignity in a world where there is little kindness and love and regard for human dignity
The concept of Tikkun Olam
To repair, to improve the world, to bring out the goodness

We walked by the river and ate Mexican overlooking Manhattan and
We walked home
Hand in hand. ​

We rang in the New Year
Watching Singin’ In the Rain in Richmond
Aaron and I finally got our honeymoon
Thanks to the generosity of the Sloan Kettering Dream Team
Several blissful days in the gorgeous glorious Guana
Our friend Molly turned 21
I nerded out at BroadwayCon
Worked at Lincoln Center
Worked at the Lyric
Registered for the Brooklyn Half
Rehearsed with the Cecilia Chorus

In February
I kept singing at Cecilia rehearsals
Ran the Al Gordon 4mile race in Prospect Park
Worked at the Lyric and David Geffen Hall
Tried to get my vocal cords checked
Tried to get my eyes checked
Started auditioning again and
Saw Sunset Boulevard with Glenn Close

In March
We saw The Moors
I saw Hello, Dolly! with Bette Midler, Anastasia with Caroline O’Connor, and The Glass Menagerie with Sally Field.
I performed in Oedipus the King with the Cecilia Chorus
Did a networking night through ActorDash
Took a film acting class with Jason Chaet
Kept auditioning and
Started voice lessons again
Worked as an extra on VEEP and
Tried to find counseling that would accept my insurance,
Finally got new reading glasses

In April
We saw Come From Away, Groundhog Day, War Paint (sans Patti, with Christine), The Price, and Natasha, Pierre, and the Comet of 1812 (with Josh Groban)
I finally started seeing a counselor
Tried to find a voice therapist
Ran the UAE Healthy Kidney 10km and the Run as One 4-miler

In May
I went to another networking night with ActorDash
Performed in A Garden Among the Flames with the Cecilia Chorus at Carnegie Hall
Volunteered at the Japan Run in Central Park and handed out hundreds of cups of water
Worked at the St. James Theatre
Saw War Paint again, this time with Patti and Christine, and my friend Danni be incredible in the The Cagebirds.
I ran the Brooklyn Half Marathon and was surprised I wasn’t dead.
Visited Rachel and Justin in Boston
And once again had visions of moving to the woods of Maine
I taught a class at Baruch and
Started working at the Stephen Sondheim
I fell madly in love with Beautiful and
Told my doctor I had signed up for the NYC Marathon

In the summer
We said goodbye to G'Pa
"Attending" his funeral via skype was surreal and painful and sad. 
I ran the NYRR Retro 5-miler, the New York Mini 10km and the New Milford 8
I watched the Ernest Shakleton Loves Me Livestream and the Tony Awards
I saw Marvin’s Room and
Did my first Broadway audition
I worked as an extra on The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, wearing wool in Washington Square Park on a 90 degree day

We shaved off all my hair on Facebook Live and
Went nervously back to camp
I played in a flute quartet, sang for the first time in public since Stupid Cancer
Conducted Tommy and The Wizard of Oz and taught voice lessons galore
We went camping in the woods
I had visions of abandoning my life to become a park ranger live among the pine trees.
At home, I did the Audition Rep Matchmaker course on auditioning
I went to my first casting director workshop with Alexis Atkinson

In September
We saw Brian be delightful in Addy and Uno and
Marc be astonishing in The Climbers
I participated in a reading of Al Monaco’s The Tesseract
I performed in the Cranky Cabaret and
Ran the Bronx 10 miler
I renewed my Australian passport
And joined the MasterVoices chorus
I did a musical theatre workshop with music director Carmel Dean

In October
I ran the Staten Island Half in the pouring rain
Saw Hungry Like the Wolk, Game of Thrones the Parody Musical, and Where Angels Fear to Tread
I did three more casting director workshops — Brette Goldstein, Freya Krasnow, and Allison Kirschner.
I did an agent’s night
I flew across the country and hung out with my little little sister in La La Land
I meditated in a beautiful garden and ran beside the Pacific Ocean
Saw Bright Star again
Back on the east coast, we celebrated our friends’ wedding and
The next day were told we were not invited back to camp.

In November
I sang in Of Thee I Sing at Carnegie Hall and
Ran the NYC Marathon with Fred’s Team and raised over $7500 for leukemia research at Sloan Kettering
We celebrated Jesse’s 60th with the Museum of the Moving Image and amazing Greek food
I saw a reading of Hatef**** at the Women’s Project, Once on This Island, and the National Theatre’s live broadcast of Follies
I did a workshop with Broadway director Marc Bruni
Aaron and I celebrated four years of marriage
With a visit to the Museum of Sex and dinner at Purple Yam
I ran the Turkey Trot 5 miler in Prospect Park and
At last received my permanent resident card

In December
I was published the on Audition Rep Matchmaker blog and
Finally launched Filmed Live Musicals
I performed in The Nightmare Before Christmas Concert at the Barclay Center
And despite being sick, had the most fun performing I’ve had in a long time
I went to the Barbara Cook Tribute at Lincoln Center
I saw The Band’s Visit, Avenue Q, and Lesli Margherita in Who’s Holiday
We saw the Christmas lights in Dyker Heights and had Chinese delivered in.

This year I ran over 800km/500 miles
Coincidentally, the approximate distance of the Camino de Santiago
I ran in Prospect Park and through the streets of Brooklyn
I ran along the Atlantic and Pacific oceans
I ran through the woods of Maine and Connecticut
I ran my first goddamn marathon and it was glorious

I got my singing voice back and wrote a cabaret
Worked at Paramour, Beautiful, Present Laughter, and the New York Philharmonic
Auditioned for plays and musicals and short films and indie projects

I had debilitating depression and anxiety
There were days when I could barely get out of bed
And when I did, I would break down at the front door

I read Born to Run, Jim Henson: The Biography, and Radical Remission,
Gloria Steinem, Heather Lyn Mann, Ali Smith, A.S. Byatt and a total of
Twenty-six plays — including Starting Monday by Anne Commire
It had me so engrossed I caught the wrong train and ended up halfway to JFK.

In between all the things
We spent countless hours dealing with health insurance
I sat quietly as I could in our room while Aaron recorded his excellent podcast
Embrace the Void
We watched Bojack Horseman, Broad City, Jane the Virgin, Master of None, Mozart in the Jungle, Santa Clarita Diet, The Crown, and The Good Wife.
We shopped at the Cortelyou Road farmers’ market every Sunday morning and 
Made bread, hummus, chilli, and dumplings

I wondered why I was doing what I’m doing
Working for low pay and pursuing a career 
Thousands upon thousands want
But only a few get

In the last moments of the year,
A patron at the theatre asked me
“How do you stay so happy doing this every day?”
And without thinking I said
“Because I love it.”

Sometimes it is hard and depressing and crushing
But when you get to do the thing,
The singing and telling stories and being around people, 
It’s all worth it

I am so fortunate to be here
I’m healthy
I have the most astonishing, clever, wonderful person by my side
We have a roof over our heads, and a lovely one at that
In the mornings, the sun streams into our nook
And the light,
It is lovely

The end
(until next year). ​

Today is the sixth anniversary of my leaving Australia
The plan was to go to drama school in London
Live there for a few years and then
“See what happens.”

What happened was that
On the way to drama school
I fell in love
With an American
Six years later we’re married and
Living in New York

The choice to live in the United States
Has always been met by my fellow Australians with a kind of
Bemused wonderment.
“Why do you want to live in America?
[Insert concern about healthcare/politics/guns/beaches/coffee]
It’s so… American.”

In the wake of the election and inauguration,
Friends and family have asked
“When are you coming home?”
My response is
I am home.
The land of the free, the home of the downright crazy.
I know the insane the state of
Healthcare/politics/guns/beaches/coffee
And when I talk about it with Americans, I say
“Who’s the crazy one? I chose to live here.”

We are/were lucky enough to be able to choose
Where we wanted to live
We toyed with the idea of Fort Collins
We considered Richmond
We looked into living in Amsterdam or London
But in the end, it was the Big Apple the beckoned
Broadway for me, philosophy and tai chi for Aaron
Brooklyn Chinatown for the both of us

Inside the Statue of Liberty
It is written
Everything is bigger in America
Even the peas

And it’s true
Everything is bigger
The food portions
The cars
The houses
(unless of course, you live in New York…
“itty bitty living space!”)
The inequality
Show business

In Australia, as of today, there are 6 commercial musicals currently playing
In the whole country
Six. In. The. Whole. Country.
In New York, as of today, there are 30 commercial musicals currently playing
And that’s just a on a fifteen block radius in Manhattan,
Forget about counting the tours, the regional productions, the non-union gigs...
It just doesn’t compare
It’s got nothing to do with quality
It’s just a numbers game
I’ve earned more money as an actor in six months in New York than I did in my entire life in Australia.

It’s not easy.
Finding a day job that pays a living wage and doesn't suck the life force out of you via your nostrils is nigh impossible
There are more auditions
But there’s also more competition
Health insurance is a terrifying bureaucratic nightmare
Yet some of the best doctors in the world
Work right here in New York
I am incredibly grateful I had access to Sloan Kettering when I did

From the moment I first landed in New York
I knew I was home
The frenetic creative energy
Everyone is a writer, an actor, a musician, a dancer
An artist
Art is celebrated here
It’s on every corner, in every subway car,
When I get to perform in Carnegie Hall or work on the sets of world-famous television shows
It feels worth it

If Broadway went away
If I were no longer a performer
Would I still choose to be here?
I fell in love with a person who, by chance and luck,
Was born an American citizen.
If he were someone else
From some other place
Perhaps I wouldn't be here at all.

So, why do I choose to live in a land of
Shitty health insurance/politics/guns/beaches/coffee?
Because I live in a place that sleeps, eats, and breathes theatre.
But most of all,
I get to spend my life with a
Patient, kind, and wonderful human being
Whose goal is human flourishing

Why do I choose to live here?
Because
​Love. ​

I had been feeling utterly, utterly exhausted during the first session of camp. More so than usual. Worn out by tasks that hadn’t ever given me grief, and puffed from walks up a short hill. A few days before I was due for two days off (a once-a-summer luxury that is prized and cherished), I noticed two bumps, one on each shin, that I assumed were spider bites. My legs were covered in mosquito bites, the bumps only hurt to the touch, and to be honest, I just didn’t have time to worry about them. I was working 14 hour days, and just too damn tired to care. 

Double day off finally arrived, a small group of us headed to the Catskills for our well-earned weekend away, and all I could do was sleep. The bumps turned into circular raised red bumps that hurt like hell. My ankles and feet became puffy. We went out for dinner, and the sight and smell of food made me feel ill. I went for a walk while our group finished eating. We went home and I collapsed back into bed. Throughout the night I slept fitfully and had fevers. At 6am, feeling absolutely awful, I asked my husband, Aaron, to take me to the doctor. 

The kindly doctor said she had not seen anything like my legs before, but she had seen several camp counselors this summer with infected bug bites. She prescribed an antibiotic and told me to go the hospital if I wasn’t feeling better in two days. 

The next morning, a Monday, we drove back to camp. Walking was agony. Sitting up made me delirious. But theatre auditions could not wait. I was propped up on a couch and we started auditions for RENT. It was self-inflicted torture. My friends begged me to go to the infirmary. But I was insistent. There was NO WAY I was missing auditions. I love my theatre babies, and I was going to be there for them. I would sit up for the kids when they came in to sing, dance, and read their scenes, and between groups I’d lie back down, feeling like I had the worst flu in the history of the world. 

By 2pm, I was done. I wanted to throw up. My legs were aching like nothing I had known. I sat outside the Actor’s Studio and sobbed. My friend Johnny happened to come by and took me to the infirmary. I fell onto the bed and didn’t get up again, except to go to the toilet and ask the nurse for more tylenol. Throughout the night I threw up twice, and sobbed. In the morning, the doctor took one look at me and told me to go to hospital.

Aaron drove me up, and supported me as I hobbled into the ER. I was admitted, blood was drawn, and I lay in bed feeling terrible. The doctor came by. Now I don’t want to upset or frighten you, but you’re going to the hear the word ‘cancer’. Your white blood cell count is astronomically high. Que?! I’m an organic vegetarian runner who meditates, rarely drinks, and never smokes. People like me don’t get cancer.

Dr Lombardo. Oncologist. What the hell is happening. Breathe. Bone marrow biopsy. Hold Aaron’s hand. Scream. WT actual F. This is awful. Why is this happening?! Breathe breathe breathe. 

Sleep overnight in the hospital. Aaron is with me. The next day, I tell Aaron to go to his work call at camp. The camp director, Laura, comes to visit. She is sitting next to me and holding my hand. Dr Lombardo is in front of me. Luisa, you have leukemia and we need to transfer you to Danbury Hospital for treatment. A million questions in my head. I ask her what would happen if I don’t have the treatment. She looks at me directly. You’ll be dead in a month. Oh. My. God. Is this real? 

To be honest, the next two weeks in my mind are a complete blur. I remember being in the ambulance. I remember being wheeled into my room at Danbury and thinking how beautiful the view was. I remember Jesse and Brenda, my wonderful amazing glorious parents-in-law, holding my hand and comforting me. I remember Aaron never leaving my side and being the most supportive and loving husband a person could ever wish for. I remember Mum, and my sister, Anita, arriving and rushing into the room and being simultaneously thrilled to see me after a long separation, and devastated that I was so sick. I remember Adrienne shaving my hair off, and seeing Emma with the same new do. And that’s about it. I’ve since been told of all the friends who visited, of nurses trying to tell me the side effects of chemo while I fell asleep mid-sentence, and of week long hallucinations where I thought I was surrounded by campers, needed to be working on stuff for RENT, and was touring with a band. I was dosed up on morphine for my legs, receiving chemo, and delirious. 

As our families and close friends were informed, support started flooding in. Emails, flowers, cards. People asking: what can we do? Aaron and Anita set up a GoFundMe page and shared it on facebook. In three weeks we raised over $25,000. We knew we wouldn’t have to worry about the inevitable hospital bills and a huge weight was taken off our shoulders. Friends from camp gave up their days off to come and help run errands. They baked treats and bought me fresh food. They opened up their houses for our families to stay. We received literally hundreds and hundreds of messages of support and love, by email, card, and telephone.  

And here is the entire point of this long post. We received donations, cards, gifts, flowers and messages of love and support from across the entire world. People who I haven’t even met who are friends and relatives of my own friends and relatives got in touch. From every aspect of my thirty years on earth, from primary school through to both my high schools, to university, theatre productions, travel friends, London, Buck’s Rock, and all manner of things in between. People wrote messages of how much I had inspired them, how my positivity had uplifted them, how I had been a light in their lives. Many people wrote how my writing had moved them. I had not heard from some of these people in close to twenty years. It was incredible. It was overwhelming. It was uplifting.  

One friend wrote: 

He was entirely right. This may have been the scariest, most confronting, most shocking thing to ever happen to me. Instead, it has shown me the web of love I live in. I didn’t really know it before. I had no idea how expansive it was. In my closest circles, I had no idea how limitless and unconditional it was. And as cheesy and corny as it sounds, that love was healing and uplifting and wrapped around me constantly over the past month. Yes, all my doctors and nurses were amazing and treated me with the utmost care. There is no denying modern medicine and science saved my life. But the web of love got me through it. 

Being told at Danbury I needed more treatment because the cancer cells were at 50% was devastating. Moving to a world-renowned cancer hospital on the upper east side wasn’t quite my plan for moving to New York. But, after being transfered to Sloan Kettering, my blood counts started returning to normal. I was taken off the restricted diet. After a third bone marrow biopsy, the cancer cells were down to 6% and I was told I could go home. 

There is still a ways to go. I will need further chemo treatment until I have a bone marrow transplant. I'm almost completely bald, I’m utterly exhausted and small tasks completely wear me out. But I can’t even begin to describe how awesome I feel. I’M HOME WITH MY LOVE! We’re finally living in New York! I am surrounded, enveloped, and filled with love and support! 

Being near-death is the strangest way to discover it. But I am so glad I have. And I'm not ready for my actual funeral yet. It’s my thirtieth in a couple of weeks, and I plan to CELEBRATE. My birthday wish is that you reach out to the people you love. Tell them you love them. Tell the writer you love reading that you love their work. Tell your friends how much you appreciate them. Send cards. Write letters. Don’t wait. Life is short and unexpected and full of batshit crazy events. Go to it! 

Thank you to you all, with deepest love,

Lu xxx

I met Ruth exactly two years ago today
Give or take a few days 
We were in New York before camp
Visiting Aaron’s family.
As a couple, we were still kind of new then - 
Even though we’d been together for a
year
Most of it had been long distance - 
Everyone met at Jake and Ruth’s
apartment
Pictures of times gone by
Baby Aaron. Baby cousins. Weddings and celebrations and friends and lives lived
Richly.
And then we went out to dinner somewhere uptown 
Most of the family gathered, a few key branches were not in the city
I was excited because the Tony Awards were uptown that year
And we could see the barricades and television
trucks setting up from the restaurant 
 
Ruth was already elderly 
Already in the late stages of alzheimer’s 
But she smiled the whole evening
Seemed happy to see her family gathered 
Jake hardly said a word
But I knew I’d been accepted when, towards the end of the meal
He ate food right off my plate 
 
And two years later
Aaron and I are married 
And on the way to living in New York 
We’re still new in a way 
But together forever now 
 
We were on our way to Richmond
When we received the sad news
That Ruth had passed away
We drove to New York
Exhausted from twelve days on the road
And were greeted by the family
 
My first full family dinner 
With my American family 
The thrill of everyone being together
Tempered by the fact that the 
Matriarch was missing 
A joyful meal in her memory
Lobster and plates upon plates of Chinese dishes
from Chinatown 
 
And today, the funeral
We drove to Dobbs Ferry 
Saw Ruth’s body dressed in a white shroud, 
Resting in a plain wooden coffin 
She looked peaceful, just sleeping. 
Family and friends gathered
Stories shared 
Tears and tissues 
The laughter of shared stories remembered 

A kind and loving matriarch
A teacher who worked professionally before children
and marriage 
A wonderful cook 
A beloved friend 
A gutsy socialist who believed in better for all 

The funeral procession up to the cemetery 
The coffin lowered into the earth
The Rabbi (female) leading the kaddish
Religious tradition providing a framework
Comforting custom 
Helping to bury the dead
Ruth's final resting place
Overlooking a valley of trees 
One of the most beautiful I've seen 

In the afternoon
More eating, of course 
I sat next to Jake, who ate right off my plate
The family gathered in celebration of their mom 
And grandmother 
 
I didn’t get to know Ruth during her life
But today I feel like I have a better sense of who she is 
Who she was 
My place in this as her grandson’s wife
The changing of the guard 
Picking up where she left off 
Carrying on her legacy 
Education and travel and experience 
A love of food, a love of people, a love of life
 
I grew up a world away
And yet, I feel at home with this family 
Sitting with them in their grief
And memories
And love

One day the wind changes
And a new nanny blows in from the north
A young lady who is on her own journey
But your four-year-old self has no concept of any of that
She is a magical lovely being
With bright curly hair
And a big smile
She makes everything fun
Your very own Mary Poppins
She is even English! 
And she becomes a part of your life. Your family. Your
world. 

Eventually, the wind changes
As it must and always will
And your very own Mary Poppins
Heads off again for more adventures of her own

Over the years you all keep in touch
Until it grows sporadic 
Life just happens 
You go to school
Parents separate 
You go to high school and university
And travel 
And write 
And everybody goes about their days filled with breakfasts, and lunches, and
dinners
And the small things we don’t think about
That mark and pass each day
Until over twenty years have passed 
 
And you’re a year off from thirty 
And out of the blue
Your very own Mary Poppins writes to you through your
website 
And you discover she lives in Chicago! 
You plan to meet up.
You’re nervous. Why?! 
It has been close to twenty-five years since you’ve seen each
other! 

And you see her, and she’s still your nanny
She’s still magical and lovely 
Still has the great big smile, though all her curls are gone
And she has children of her own
(The same age you were once upon a time!) 
And even though all this time has passed
Even though all these lives have been lived in the intervening
time
It’s just like being with family, with a very close aunt or big
sister 
She asks if you could stay in Chicago and become her
nanny! 
You wish you could. You really do. 
You never want to leave! 

But the wind has changed
And you’re headed off for adventures of your own
You give her a hug
And promise to return
That night, your heart is so full
You can’t even sleep. 
It’s not memories, or even topics of conversation,
It’s this sense
That you’ve rediscovered who you are
Where you came from
And who was there
Who made you who you are
And that time and space
Can never separate kindred spirits
People who are supposed to be in our lives
And make it better

The end. 

When they say 
The immigration system
Is broken
It needs fixing 
I can tell you
First hand
It is a red hot 
Stinking mess 
Of hell

Like having the privilege 
Of being with my love
Took eleven months
A few thousand dollars 
Endless reams of paper 
That repeated the
Same information
Over and over and 
Over again 
Name. Age. D.O.B. His Name. Age. D.O.B. 
Parent’s names. Parent’s birthdays. Parent’s place of birth. 
Copies of birth certificates, police certificates, medical certificates. 
Every address I have lived at since I was sixteen 
(I am currently residing in my 24th abode in 30 years. I hate that question.) 

And once the system
Decided
In 2013
To make everything virtual 
We had to re-submit
Every single form
From scratch. 

At one point,
There were six different numbers 
Assigned to my case 
Now I am a code. 
I am never asked for my name
Only my number 
Because I am not 
Luisa Lyons, Australian/Spanish citizen 
I am a ten digit code with an 
Alphabetized prefix. 

And once I got to the USA
And arrived at the border
The immigration official
Had to go through every piece of paper
In my packet
Stamp it
And determine it was ok for me to go through

Once we were married
More paperwork
The same information
Over and over and 
Over again 
Name. Age. D.O.B. His Name. Age. D.O.B. 
Parent’s names. Parent’s birthdays. Parent’s place of birth. 
Copies of birth certificates, police certificates, medical certificates
Certified marriage certificate
Every address I have lived at since I was sixteen 
Everything must be submitted in hard copy, most forms are filled in by hand

This is to “Adjust Immigrant Status” 
And apply for “Employment Authorization” 
More exorbitant fees
That ensure
You will never be able to speak to a human
Months of waiting 
And zero communication
With the department

The system is broken 
Because between us
My husband and I 
Hold four university degrees
But my husband has to work his butt off 
To keep us afloat 
Because I’m not allowed to work
Either to contribute to the economy 
Or to our household 

I’m grateful I speak English
I’m proactive 
I volunteer at a local bookshop
Am volunteering with a local theatre company 
Writing my one-woman show 
But 
In a society whose primary currency is 
Cash 
I cannot thrive

I hate not being independent
I hate having to ask for financial help 
When we have worked so damn hard. 
I hate living in a system 
That is so crushed by bureaucracy 
And fear 
That it is not able to function 

The system is broken
And it’s breaking me down 
Every time I have to call the 
“Helpline” 
To ask 
Why haven’t we heard anything?

I’m tired of being a number 
And waiting

The end. 

If someone had told me
Just two years ago
That I would be living in 
Fort Collins, Colorado
I would have said,
Where?! 
They say home is where the heart is
And yes, my love is here,
But this pretty little town
An hour north of Denver
Population approx 150,000,
Has, in less than two months,
Become home 

I love Old Town
With its multitude of fairy lights
And hipster stores
Selling Tibetan and locally-made crafts
And burgers and pizzas and 
Yoga mats 
I love the Bean Cycle and 
Wolverine Bookstore 
With its shelves of second-hand books
And coffee aroma 

I love City Park
With its rolling green hills
And large sparkling lake
Its waters now frozen and home to 
Impromptu ice hockey games
And ice fishing
And ice skating ducks 
In the summer 
When the water is liquid 
It is filled with paddle boats 
And swimmers 
And cries of joy from the adjacent water slide 

I love cycling to rehearsal 
Down wide streets with designated cycle lanes
And along the Poudre Trail 
Following the bends and turns of the river
Through parkland and forests 
Within a ten to fifteen minutes you are out of suburbia
And into the open expanse of 
Colorado with 
Mountains on the horizon
And nothing but sweeping brown vistas
All around you 
And everywhere you go
Ducks and geese fly in V’s up above
Black dots against heart-breakingly blue sky

The sky is always blue
With an average of 
300 days of sunshine a year 
Every time I catch the silhouette 
Of dark leafless trees against that blue
I gasp

I love the extremes in temperature
One day will see you shivering at -26C/-14F
And the next day will be 12C/53F and you wondered what it was like to feel cold. 
The way the air smells fresh and crisp after snow
And when it’s warm, the scent is tinged with manure from the surrounding farms. 
The way the wind whips down the streets
The way the snow falls
The way the sun shines. 

I love that Craigslist works
We have a lovely handmade coffee table 
And a keyboard
And babysitting gigs 
I love that people interact and connect 
I’ve built more of a community in two months
Than I ever did in two years in London
Every other person brews beer
Keeps bees 
Knits
Fort Collins is full of artists and students and hipsters 
I fit right in. 

I love our farmer’s market
And driving fifteen minutes out of town
To Jodar Farms to buy eggs
And pork and chicken for Aaron
I love the taste of local kale and spinach
And those eggs
With their bright yellow yolks 
And multi-coloured shells. 

I love being here
This unexpected place 
That once, didn’t even know existed
Colorado
From the Spanish, meaning, coloured red,
For now,
My home 

The end.