12.22

I remember this being my mandatory tradition every year. Not attending, quite obviously. I was a dancer. Well. Realistically, dance was my life. I had no other passion as intense. And on top of the average of ten classes I’d attend every week, I dedicated my free time to Competition practice on Fridays and Nutcracker rehearsal on Saturdays. There was no other place I preferred to be. And somehow, with an insane amount of girls running around the studio, we managed to put together a performance for sold out shows every December.

These were the memorabilia that my mother thought was important. Rather than telling her daughters how proud she was. She kept every sheet of paper that proved we were part of the Academy. I guess its kind of cool for me now, because I certainly cannot remember all the roles I’ve performed over the years. I know I tried to do all of them, but I wasn’t involved young enough to do the mouse role, which both my sisters did a few times. That’s okay.. those fluffy jumpsuits would have been incredibly unflattering.

I miss all of this way too much. Besides mandatory grade school, dance was the biggest part of my life. Unforeseen circumstances stole that from me, and now I have no way of gaining back that sense of purpose. Everything feels lack luster nowadays. I have these memories, but its not the same. Can someone build a time machine?

12.5

I remember when this was the song of my people. And when I say my people, I mean my fellow dancers. But I really mean just me. I can’t recall if my mom sort of forced this onto me, or if it started with my Godmother. It does sound like something my mom would do.. But I kind of liked it. She has a pretty voice, and it definitely rang true to me.

My godmother is the one who gave me the CD. She wrote an inscription inside the case, which the only reason I still have this at all. It was a gift at one of my dance recitals. Usually people gave me flowers, but those always wilted and shriveled. These are the performance gifts that I liked. I could cherish it for as long as I wanted. Or for as long as CD players still exist.

I don’t think this singer ever became too well-known. Unless I just completely missed it. Which is possible! No matter what, this song will always be a part of my dance career, as short as it was. I just don’t really know what to do with the CD. I’d feel guilty if I just threw it away. It was a gift from someone who can’t afford to lavish those she loves like she wants. It meant the world that she gave me anything at all.

8.8

I remember when this used to be a locally owned cafe place. I think it was some sort of a deli. But they’d have live entertainment at least once a week. I’m not sure how popular it was, but it must say something that the cafe didn’t last very long. Even the few places that moved in after are gone now.

We have a family friend that is a bluegrass performer. He’s actually a pretty big local artist now, but years ago, he would do smaller things. And there was once that he invited me to accompany him. I only had one day to practice the song on my flute, but I think it turned out okay. Despite being incredibly nervous and sweating like a pig.

He never asked me to join him again, which was fine by me. It’s still sad though. That’s one of the few memories I have in this place.

5.31

I remember performing here during Island Fest. It was years ago, though. The Academy has since stopped participating in everything, with the exception of the parade. But we used to perform a few of our recital pieces here in the hangar for anyone who wanted to watch. It was mainly parents, as most of us were rather young and mischievous when left alone. It was nice to have a crowd. It was nice to pretend that people cared about the actual dance, rather than gloating about their precious baby angel child.

We used the same floors no matter where we went. They were a certain material, perfect for dance. They’d be rolled up and stored for most of the year, but when it came time for performances, there would be a crew of volunteers to set up our stage. I miss those floors. My body became conditioned to recognize their feel. I would know it was safe to move; to let it all out. I haven’t felt those floors in years. And its almost like everything is building up. Every now and then I find myself busting out a few moves at home, but quickly stopping because my feet get stuck.

I don’t really know why we stopped performing here every year. Maybe we had to pay? That sounds unreasonable, however. I don’t know. I just miss it all.