So yesterday was an unusually gorgeous day in Colorado for this time of year. It was amazing. The sun was shining, there was a gentle breeze, and welcome lack of livestock aroma in the air. Instead, the air tasted fresh, and sweet and like impending summer.
So we went to showcase, where for the first time, we put the opening number on its feet. The windows were open, and the light was carried in on that same gentle breeze; and I had to smile at the thought that those open windows would likewise share our song with any one walking outside. I wondered who would hear it, and who would pause to hear the triumphant chords of Freedom being belted by our talented class.
Then suddenly, I wasn’t standing in 205 anymore. I was standing in the Jerry Orbach, in the midst of showcase. The event that had been an ethereal happening that I have been anticipating for four years, and for the first time it I knew it was happening. I felt my heart stop beating. A mix of nostalgia, terror, and excitement turned my breathing into shallow scrapes, and it literally felt like a physical challenge to get through the next few moments. Joey must’ve seen my unrest, because he swept in with a swift and welcome shoulder massage.
It was all I could do to stay in 205 in that moment. To look at the faces of my friends, and feel the light and the music. And then the terror was gone, and left only joy. It was one of those rarities in life. Where I felt completely present, and at home; in celebration of that single moment, not wishing for one that had past, nor living in fear of one to come later. Where my heart was so filled with pride that I felt physically buoyant, like I would lift off the ground at any second.
Of course such joy cannot last for long. Maybe it can for some, but I rarely come upon it. But it was a step toward my future. Not that I’m any less scared, but I’m a little more hopeful that I won’t always be.