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by Eiram Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Essay · Educational · #1469599
a narrative essay about my show choir performance
Other than choir concerts I hadn’t been on stage for quite some time; though the stage is where I feel the happiest, it and I were separated for three years.
The butterflies were swarming to my stomach making me feel like they could take me away. I had two hours till show time and I still didn’t know the entire routine for my show choir group, my reason for this was I hadn’t been to practice or to school for that matter because of family problems and the routine was a little harder than I thought when you aren’t there to learn it with the other girls so every little detail hadn’t been put by me to learn and get used to.
Becoming frantic, I ran to a fellow group member and asked to go through the steps just one more time. The others felt the need to run through it again as well. Step by step we practiced making sure I got it. All of us singing the song and counting the steps and making sure it stays in time. And then we hear our coaches calling us together to get us pumped for the performance. First we would do the set for the entire show choir performance (first set of Dinner Theater) , then the senior solos, and after those were done my group was to go up and do our little song and dance.
As the giant group gathered together I realized how long we actually had till we performed, 10 minutes, and then that ominous feeling that I was going to fall flat on my face made my stomach fly out of me like it does when riding the space-shot at Adventureland. It didn’t matter that I knew the first set inside and out, and outside in, I was nervous and there wasn’t much that could make that go away. Well there was one thing that could make it go away but my best friend wasn’t much in the mood to sing the song she had written for me.
The pep talk was over, we were all lined up, and my breath hadn’t quite caught me yet. We started to walk out to the stage, when I saw the bright lights my nerves subsided and eagerness took its place. Then I realized I was on stage again! I was home once more. My heart grew and got all fluttery and warm.
We got into our positions and waited for the music to start. The first note was struck and I lost myself in what I was doing. There was nothing in the world that could have made me that happy.
For once in my life, I was doing something for me as well as for someone else. I was glad I hadn’t quit, that I had gone through with it and lost myself in practices. My heart was free to fly and for a little while I thought I could fly as well.
I looked out and saw the people in the audience for the first time, and at first I didn’t believe they were there; I thought they were just part of my day-dream. I saw their smiling faces and some of them were lip-syncing along with the songs we were singing. I got this immense feeling of pride and completion, that I was making other people happy by doing something that made me soar to the heavens.
In the middle of it all I felt like my hero was standing next to me cheering me on. I felt my grandmothers eyes watching me one last time, even though I knew I’d never be able to see her in the crowd or anywhere else, I knew that she’s always be watching me and I could hear some of the last words she said to me, “thank you for being the pride and joy of my life.” Those words rang through my head making my performance even brighter, me sing louder, and my smile bigger.
My friends noticed the sudden change in ever aspect of me that night. I had the drive to do anything because I knew I could do it now. There was nothing left to stand in my way anymore. I had the final push I needed to get me to go where I wanted to go but had always been afraid to go.
No one cold take the fact that I was free away from me. My first night back on stage was the most amazing night I’ve ever had in my life, and it almost didn’t happen.
Now the second night is a whole different story, it involves; the time warp, tons of glitter, me forgetting one of my dance moves, leaving my shoes at home, and tripping over the stupid door stops about 14 thousand times. Imagine how happy I was then.
© Copyright 2008 Eiram (animeelphie at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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