As it gets closer and closer to May, I am reminded of a time I used to wait for with such excitement: recital. At this point in the year, dance pictures should be happening soon, as costumes are coming in and being distributed to eager dancers who want to try them on.
The girls that I am friends with on facebook that are still in high school have been posting pictures of their costumes, and it made me kind of sad... I used to be one of the girls eagerly trying on their shiny new costumes. As dance costumes must always be shiny, shimmery and sparkly. I have my fair share of glittery ones. God how I miss it... Every so often the thought crosses my mind, "Do they miss me?"
I didn't grow up at the dance studio like most of my classmates. I was only there during high school, and as such, missed some of the formative years of dancing. I can hold my own in all genres I learned, tap, jazz, ballet, and pointe, with the exception being turning. I suck at turning, as my spotting skills are pretty much nonexistent. I mean, I can do a clean double, but nothing fancy. I also suck at tap, but my old instructor Shara, one of the most beautiful people I have ever met, inside and out, told me it was ok, as the other girls had just learned how to fake it and didn't really know it either.
And I just miss it. I miss the tights and leotards and the sweating and the stretching and the kicks and the turns and the jumps and the spins and the exhaustion and the pain and the joy. I miss it all. I miss Saturday rehearsals in the either freezing or extremely hot studio. I miss night rehearsals with cupcakes for every occasion. I miss opening, I miss barre, I miss pointe, I miss tutus and rips and falls and slips.
Sure, pilates and yoga keep me flexible (I can still do unstretched splits) but there is nothing like moving to the music.
The dance studio wasn't just a place to wear pretty, tight costumes. It was a place of love. We went and saw Twilight (in a white Hummer limo!). We had a sleepover and watched old videos and saw everyone's dances. It was just a good time.
And now, almost a year later, I wonder, "Do they miss me? Do they even notice I'm gone?"
Nostalgia is a bitch.
Here's me in some of my senior year costumes, if you haven't seen them while creeping my Facebook page... You may remember my lovely jazz costume from Halloween.