Choreography of Life

The lights dim and the conductor raises his baton. The overture begins. The audience sits back in their seats, staring at the deep red velvet curtain. It hangs, still, from the high ceiling. The music from The Nutcracker Ballet continues. Anticipation grows as the music crescendos. The audience waits. Finally, the curtain begins its slow climb to the rafters, revealing a scene from a cold winter’s day.

* * *

A fouetté is a turn, propelled by the working leg whipping around in a circle. An experienced dancer can spin almost endlessly, balancing on one foot and swinging the working leg to begin each revolution.

* * *

I stare out the big picture window. Watching the snowflakes fall in the glare of the powerful lights on the tarmac, I wonder when our plane will arrive. I look to my mom and say, “Snowflakes.” We begin another round of 20Q. As the electronic purple circle asks us if it is an animal, vegetable, or mineral, the lights go out. I glance outside into the darkness, searching for our plane as the snowflakes endlessly dance toward the ground.

* * *

Onstage, a single girl beckons others to join her. Her navy blue cloak with silver buttons protects her from the cold. A few ringlets artfully escape her bonnet. The stage soon fills with dancers. The girls chassé on and off stage bringing accessories for their snowman. A light comes on behind the thin backdrop, illuminating a doll in a window. Feigning shock, the sisters run over to get a better look. Clara’s Uncle Drosselmeyer brings the doll to life. It turns around by itself. It sits down, the lights behind the curtain dim, and the sisters can no longer see inside. They continue to play in the snow.

* * *

A balancé is a traveling step in which weight shifts from one foot to the other.

* * *

Rehearsals for Aladdin take place in an empty store. The glass front opens to the mall, inviting shoppers to look inside. Most hurry past, looking only when we burst into song. One of my scenes come to a close, and the actors on the makeshift stage shift. I go and sit in the window, listening to actors reciting their lines, watching people go about their everyday lives. Others sit in this in-between space with me. I whisper with them as we wait for our cues, getting to know them. Caela tells me about her sister and Abi tells me about the middle school. Nicole talks about her dream of acting on Broadway. Krysta watches her sister hanging out with the high schoolers and takes mental notes on how to be cool. I sit, asking and answering questions, as the actors continue their dialogue in the background.

* * *

Clara’s off-white dress stands out among the bright colors her guests wear. She, her brother Fritz, and their parents mingle with the others. The Christmas tree twinkles in the background as Uncle Drosselmeyer presents Clara with a beautiful Nutcracker doll. As everyone admires the gift, Frits pulls the Nutcracker from Clara’s arms. She holds on, then watches in horror as her beloved Nutcracker falls to the ground, broken. Uncle Drosslemeyer wraps a handkerchief around the wooden jaw to fix it. After the party, Clara falls asleep by the Christmas tree. She protectively cradles her new Nutcracker doll in her arms. Suddenly, the clock strikes 12, bringing Clara out of a peaceful slumber.

* * *

A relevé raises the dancer from standing flat-footed to standing on their toes.

* * *

The music starts playing from my alarm at 5:00am. I sigh and roll over. Eventually, I get up, annoyed with the cold, the music, and the absence of my pillow. With half-closed eyes, I feel my way downstairs to my mom. Sitting at the dark wooden table, I eat the breakfast she made, and fail at an attempt to wake myself up. I drive to the school building, a tired menace on empty roads. Brother Smith cheerfully greets me as I walk into the room. I smile a response, and sink into the hard plastic chair in the back of the auditorium. As class goes on, I feel myself rising, cheering up, and getting ready for the day, despite the morning’s happy topic of defenestration in the Bible.

* * *

The Christmas tree grows as the music swells. Clara looks around, amazed as she sees a life-size toy house. Soldiers stand inside, with bright red and royal blue costumes. An overgrown mouse scurries by, and Clara’s face freezes in shock. The first soldier steps out of the box, saluting Clara, ready to defend her. As a mouse lunges forward to attack her, she gracefully runs away and jumps onto the sofa.

* * *

In an arabesque, a dancer stands supported on one leg, with her body parallel to the ground, face down. Her arms stretch out in front of her and her working leg extends behind her.

* * *

The weather finally cooperates, and I head outside for track practice. After warm-ups, I jog to the shed to pull out the high jump standards. My mentor graduated last spring, so now I am the one with the responsibility to teach. This thought jumps into my consciousness, unwelcome, as Andrea and I drag the heavy metal poles over the bumpy grass to the pit and set them up, only four feet high to start. I pace out my mark, put down tape, and run through a few times. Andrea, new to high jumping, mimics me. My right toe reaches toward my mark, searching for the perfect place to put my spikes. Taking a deep breath, I stretch my left leg out behind me. I move forward, counting my rhythm: 1-2-3, 1-2-3-4. I spring upward, raising my arms in front of me, letting the momentum carry me over the bar. I hit the mat, quickly becoming enveloped in yellow powder from the disintegrating foam. I blink, getting the debris out of my eyes. Andrea looks over at me, questions on her face; she had never seen the “mat dust.” I tell her to close her eyes and mouth as she lands, and she takes off running, attempting to high jump for the first time.

* * *

The battle continues, mice against soldiers. The soldiers advance, thrusting their swords forward. They surround the mice. A single gong strike announces the arrival of the Mouse King. The mice use this distraction to their advantage, jumping over the soldiers and brandishing their tails toward the center of the circle. The Nutcracker Prince strides in from the wings, immediately engaging the Mouse King in hand-to-hand combat. Clara looks around uncertainly, hoping the malicious leader of the mice will not injure her prince.

* * *

Chaînés are a series of quick turns, completed one right after another.

* * *

School ends, and I head toward the library. My friend Bridget is already there, setting up our buzzers. I grab one and start untangling the cord. Soon, everyone is there and we have it all set up. Mr. Cooper, our coach, pulls out a set of questions and starts firing them at us, quickly making our heads spin. We settle in, listening and ringing our signals, Jeopardy!-style. For five minutes, we concentrate and try to accumulate as many points as possible. Then we relax and enjoy the time. Where was Napoleon Bonaparte exiled the first time? Buzz: Elba. Who wrote The Leatherstocking Tales? Buzz: James Fenimore Cooper. What scientific principle did Heisenberg come up with? Buzz: The uncertainty principle. Mr. Cooper asks the last question and we pack up. I grab my backpack and walk to the parking lot with my teammates. In the back of my mind I wonder, “Are we prepared for tomorrow’s match?”

* * *

As the audience enjoys intermission, Clara’s house turns into the Land of Sweets. Behind the curtain, a castle made of sugar crystals, lollipops, and gum drops replaces the Christmas tree. Red and white striped candy canes sleep, their heads resting on cupcakes and Hershey Kisses. The audience settles down as the orchestra plays the dreamlike opening notes of the second act.

* * *

In a plié, the feet stay in a fixed position and the knees bend to lower the dancer toward the ground. It often connects other movements in a dance.

* * *

I put together my flute and look at the music. I haven’t practiced nearly as much as I should have, and the day of dress rehearsal offers no time to fix that. We gather around the conductor, Mrs. Kuehner, as she gives us last-minute instructions. “Remember, the orchestra pit has done a good job if the audience forgets you are there.” Walking to the pit, I talk to Julia, the clarinet player. We lower ourselves down beneath the stage and half-heartedly attempt to keep quiet between the first songs. We gradually become silent. If I pay close attention to the actors, I see the small cues they give each other, the kind that can only come from months of practice and working together. After the dress rehearsal, all the actors chat excitedly, ready for the next day. Julia and I walk away, unnoticed.

* * *

The Sugar Plum Fairy greets Clara and the Nutcracker. She and the Nutcracker guide Clara through the wonderful new place. Performers present numerous dances to entertain them. Clara sits on her perch in front of the castle, whispering to the Nutcracker and learning about his magical world. She watches dance after dance, becoming more engrossed with each one.

* * *

An assemblé is a traveling jump. One leg brushes away from the body, lifting off the ground as far away as possible. The supporting leg then follows. The feet meet in the air, and land on the ground together.

* * *

My friend Alex and I pick our song in March. We know we need to start working early if we want a dance good enough to win the county talent show. The melody of “We Are Family” by Sister Sledge soon fills my house and invades my dreams. Pushing the furniture out of the way, we begin to choreograph by my fireplace. Serious work blends into giggles as I parade around the room like a pop star on a stage. We debate model-walking versus skipping, complete synchronization versus solos. Eventually, we come to a conclusion. Alex begins the dance, skipping forward by herself. I soon follow. For most of the rest, the left-handed Alex and I mirror one another. As we put together the finishing touches of our dance, we let the CD play the next track, “We Are The Champions”. The giggling starts all over again as Alex and I begin to dream.

* * *

I walk into the empty theater in my off-white dress. The open curtain leaves the candy castle exposed. I look at the blank space where we have danced for the past week. I climb onto the stage. Gazing into the vacated rows of chairs, I taste the rosin in the air. My bare feet feel the tape on the floor that marks center stage. So many times I have glanced at that red tape to guide my dancing. I direct my eyes upward. Backdrops hang in the scaffolding underneath the high ceiling, rolled into compact cylinders and tucked out of sight. In the wings, props sit neatly on a table, meticulously arranged by a friendly stagehand. The makings of Clara’s dream sit, waiting to help her enter the Nutcracker’s magical world. Months of hard work and practice pay off in the theater, as dancers seem to effortlessly perform complex choreography. I smile and walk out through the stage door, heading toward my own unscripted adventures.