Recovering My Inner 3-year-old at 33
By Jordan Power
In my earliest memory, I’m three and hunched behind a blue exercise mat, masquerading as a stage curtain. My parents have paused dinner preparation for a sneak peek at my latest theatrical original, always here for one night only. I hit play on the boombox, click on the nightlight illuminating the side walls, and saunter from the back of the “curtain.”