I am sick and sad and desperate for peace. My day has been filled with endless problems since the time I got out of bed and no one seems to understand. Taking long strides into the familiar building, I rush right past the lobby and into the teacher’s area, slamming my dance bag down into my locker and quickly discarding my clothes on top of the mess. I practically sprint past my teacher as she quietly opens a door to a darkened room with a look of understanding in her eyes. Armed with nothing but a racing pulse and aching heart, I turn on the music. And I dance.
I am light and giddy as I step out of the car, laughing along with my sister as we both push pass the glass doors and are welcomed into the building with loud cheers and hurried hellos. We each fall into our own familiar routine, placing our bags into their respective spots and changing into the proper shoes for that day’s activities. I rush into the room and give out a few quick hugs before finding my spot at the barre. The teacher turns on the music. And I dance.
I am tired and aching and sore as I stand quietly, listening to my teacher’s corrections. It’s late, I should be home, eating dinner, probably sleeping by now. However, 15 other girls and I are all standing silently as the instructor critiques our piece, demonstrating the correct way to pirouette, and how our develope should have extended from fifth position, and not third. She retreats to the back of the room, watching as we quickly make our way back to our starting positions. She turns on the music. I sigh. And I dance.
I am all nerves and and static and excitement. I am found waiting backstage behind dark velvet curtains with my favorite people in the world, and we are all stretched out limbs and too tight buns and so, so extremely happy. My family is waiting to see me on the other side of the curtains, with a bouquet of orange roses for me and another set of pink ones for my sister. The dance teachers are standing anxiously in the wings as the tech crew begins the nightly announcements, and as the man’s deep voice bounces around the vast hall, and welcomes the audience to the show, I see one of them waving enthusiastically at me as I take my place onstage.  I can’t even help the small laugh that escapes me as the room fills with a sudden silence, and she laughs back from the wings. The curtains rise and I am home again. They turn on the music. And I dance.