This is what I love.

I step out onto the stage and own it.

I know it’s the place where I belong.

I feel the bright lights warm my face.

I feel the adrenaline wash over me.

I feel at home, as if I’m swaying around the kitchen to whatever song happens to be playing.

This is what I love.

The work all leads up to the performance.

The countless late nights.

The countless early mornings.

The time spent at the studio perfecting every last step.

The millions of minutes that lead up to the three that I perform onstage.

This is what I love.

I can’t see the audience, but I can feel them watching my every move.

I feel them reacting to me, feeding off my every emotion.

I perform better just so I can feel more connected.

I push myself harder so they can hear the story I’m telling without words.

This is what I love.

They don’t know how much I’m thinking.

They don’t know what it takes to get to this moment.

They don’t know it’s my job to make the steps look easy.

They don’t know all the grueling work.

This is what I love.

I work to make it look effortless.

I look as graceful as a gazelle, bouncing and dashing around the stage.

I leap up and touch stars.

I continue the dance with no fear of failing.

This is what I love.

Suddenly, I see them.

The faces aren’t just blurs anymore.

I smile wider as the audience is no longer blurry, like a camera coming into focus.

I can now clearly see all their eyes on me.

My family.

My friends.

They’re all there for me.

I turn to the side, and that’s when I see her.

The little girl waiting in the wings.

Watching me with the widest eyes.

Watching me without blinking.

Watching me in awe.

This is what I love.

She doesn’t distract me.

She pushes me to be my best.

This is what I love.

I finish the dance.

I smile the widest I ever have.

I take my final bow.

I quickly exit the stage as the blackout falls on me,

hurrying to that little girl who is looking up at me and smiling bigger than I’ve ever seen anyone smile before.

She tells me all about how she watched me,

how great I did.

She tells me she wants to be just like me someday as I pull her into the tightest hug.

This is what I love.

The smiles refuse to leave our faces,

I tell her how I remember being just like her,

how I wanted to be just like the big girls.

I stand up and continue to beam at her.

This is what I love.

I wait in the wings as I watch a younger version of myself take the stage.

The lights come up.

I see her, looking just like I did when I was her age.

This is what I love.

I worked my hardest when I was her age to get to where I am now.

I know she’ll be better than me and exceed all expectations.

Watching her shining personality onstage it’s so easy to see.

This is what she loves.