Coffee Talk #2: Dancing Queen

I'm on the right.  One of my all-time favourite photos,
taken backstage at my last show.
The three of us in this photo had danced together for all of my 11 years.
Fact about me: I did Ballet for 11 years.

I love it to death.  Dance became my life.  I struggled through my high school years, and nights spent at the studio somehow made everything better.  I suck with words, and the movement became a way to express myself freely.

I went to a small studio in the next town over.  It's a place where you can come and dance and be accepted, regardless of whether you fit the dancer mould or not.  I never have, and never will, fit that mould.  Yet I always felt like I belonged there.  Hell, I missed my senior PROM for my recital!

I had some great roles over the years.  In my first recital, I was Charlie Chaplin (moustache and all).  I played a crow in The Wizard of Oz, a candlestick in Beauty and the Beast, a Lost Boy in Peter Pan, among many other miscellaneous parts.  My biggest role was Drosselmeier in The Nutcracker.  I was always stronger at my jumps than my turns, and managed to consistantly score typically male roles, not that I ever would have traded them for anything.

One of my most treasured memories is my last dance: the Finale in a show we called rTunes (our spoof on an iTunes playlist).  The song was "I'm Still Standing" by Elton John.  I was front and centre.  I had never felt as important as I did in that moment.  Four of us graduated that year.  Three of us had been dancing together for all of my 11 years.  I was last to get my flowers (thanks for that, alphabetical order).

My dance teacher and I hugging as I received my graduation flowers.

Since May 2010, I have missed dancing with a passion.  I still dance recreationally, but it has never been the same.  However, dance is something that I will never give up.

This weekend is my old studios annual recital, called "Get Inspired".  Tomorrow, I get to go watch my cousin step onto the stage one last time, and receive her flowers.  And I will likely cry just as much as I did when that was me.  Maybe more.

Much love, Samantha

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