A year had passed since the night on the deck in Carmel, and the world had not stopped spinning, though its axis had certainly shifted. I stood in the wings of the Dolby Theatre, the familiar scent of floor wax and expensive perfume swirling around me. The heavy velvet curtain was the only thing separating me from a global audience of millions. In my hand, I clutched a small, gold plated statue that felt much heavier than its physical weight suggested.
I looked down at the Oscar, its polished surface reflecting the dim stage lights. This was the pinnacle. This was the moment every actress dreamed of from the second they stepped onto their first community theater stage. I had rehearsed my speech a thousand times in front of the bathroom mirror, but as I stood there, the words felt hollow and rehearsed.
