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Byline: Devon O'brien'
It was early on the opening night of my new play in Los Angeles, and I needed a moment of peace. I had survived "Hell Week" (the difficult days prior to opening; even small productions like this one have big problems). I deserved, I thought, a minute to catch my breath and anticipate the exciting evening ahead.
All I had to do was decide what to wear. My date for the evening, Nick, my fifteen-year-old son, was contentedly strumming his guitar on the stairway, signifying his readiness, while my younger child, Tom, five, awaited his favorite baby-sitter.
There was no hurry; this was a luxury and strange. After years of ...