Memoir

Heart beating, heads aching from the tight, high buns our mothers gave us. The smell of sweat, hairspray, and deodorant overwhelm me. I can't breath. My throat feels tight and I'm sweating. I think I might pass out . Daniela grabs my hand before I do and snaps me out of it.

“Are you nervous?” She asked.

“Me?” She nodded, “Um no, just excited.,”I lied, I'm an eight year old girl about to perform with the Mark Morris Student Company. “Not nervous at all,”

The 14 of us stand crowded in the unfamiliar tech room, reserved for performers only. We watched the older girls on the small T.V. They were amazing,

“I hope to dance like that when I'm older” I whispered into Layla's ear.

The purple and blue lights from their dance flash through the tiny windows on the door. Layla and I held hands, our way to give each other good luck, we were too anxious to speak. My leotard was making me irritated. It was itchy and I couldn't wait to take it off. It was ugly too, light blue and green velvet leotard and blue water colored chiffon skirt, with a butterfly sewed to the hip. Yeah. I hated it. We apparently looked “cute” and “so adorable”, and thats all that really mattered, so I guess we were stuck with it.

“Ready to go,” Misty and Sarah said in unison. “Break a leg!” Their faces were red and tired, like they just ran 5 miles and hadn't slept for days. They've been anticipating this moment for months.

So were we. All our practice would finally pay off and we would perform.

We walked on stage. You could hear the quiet pitter patter of out feet prance across the floor. We took our places. The first dance was fast, the “Texas Wildflower” dance, or the hoedown, as we liked to call it.

I danced the best I could, we all did, we danced for Misty, what she told us earlier was going to change us forever.

I felt betrayed and angry but I wanted to cry and hug her and never ever ever ever let go but I knew this day was coming but it could wait right she didn't have to leave? She did, we all knew it. In the middle of dance, I looked and saw her crying, I missed my music que, I was late, she's not crying anymore.

The dance teacher I've had since I was 4 years old, was moving to texas to take care of her mom after her dad died. I didn't know how to feel. All these thoughts screaming to come out.

I felt guilty for even thinking I was mad at her, everyone did. But we weren't mad, we were just confused. I didn't want to be selfish so I put on my happy, brave face.

At the end of the show, when we went to do our bows, everyone was crying, even our parents and especially Misty and us. We ran up and hugged her, one big crying circle. It was out last dance together, ever. The bright stage lights stung our red, puffy eyes.”I'm going to miss her so so much” I said to myself, “We all are.”

To this day, I remember Misty so well. The way she taught, and danced, her loud country accent, and cheesy jokes, the way she owns every room she'll ever walk into with her fun personality. How she loved to sing along the piano and sing old themes songs from ancient TV shows. Shes the teacher that taught me how to dance, she taught me all the fundamentals, she sparked the fire, and she did it so well. I miss her, but I know how shes owning up the whole state of texas.