Ole

The moment was perfect.

Standing in the hallway, listening to the music on stage, waiting for my turn. The nerves. The giddy anticipation. The pained smiles from my fellow level one flamenco dancers.

This is the moment in the movies where everything slows down. Where the music cues as the dancers line up back stage. Where every look is nuanced and every stretch of muscle looks like a moment of epic proportions. Where the heroine makes her final stand.

There would be a flash back to the hours of practice. To the dance rehearsal the night before, in the crowded, sauna of a dance studio. To the support shown to all dancers. To the moment where the class danced their dance before their peers. To the shaking legs and nervous smile.

There would be a flashback to tech rehearsal from the morning of, to bumping into Joey trying to hit marks and trying not to think of how full the hall would be when showtime came.

There would be a flashback to backstage, putting on makeup, sticking the flower in the hair and finally feeling a sense of camaraderie with the other dancers, just as it is all about to end.

But this is not a movie.

And as the moment came, I stepped on stage and felt... right. Sure, there were nerves. But no shaky legs. No dread in the depths of my stomach. The music came and my head turned on cue. After that, my body just took over. Sure, I didn't look at the audience that much but I don't think that matters. Sure, I stepped on the trapdoor and nearly turned my ankle, causing me to loose time and bump into someone. Sure both hands went into the air when only one was supposed to.

Whatever.

The moment was perfect. As was the moment when the lights went down and the applause came.

Ole.

S.