When you hear the word, “dance,” your mind might immediately think of the sophistication of ballet or the swag of hip-hop. Personally, the first thing that comes to my mind is the one fast-paced song whose counts and lyrics are engraved into my heart after listening to it on repeat for an hour. Still, the best thing about dance for me isn’t the physical act of dancing itself. Sure, doing a coupe turn out of a double pirouette or chasse-ing into a surprise leap is exhilarating. But dance did more than simply increase my coordination and flexibility and grow my appreciation for music and the desire to perform. Dance pieced together the broken friendships of the past and helped me form the new, much needed connections I have today. So, if I were to be asked what the best thing about dance is, I’d say, “As far as my memory goes, everything.”

I still remember the first time we did a split circle. On any normal occasion, a large group of dancers sitting in their middle splits on the floor wouldn’t appear as a big deal. For me however, this singular day in my freshman year of high school marked something significant; I was accepted. I was accepted not only as part of that class, but part of that close bond that all dancers seemed to have. Also, who doesn’t have fun chanting, “Five, six, seven, eight!” in the most unsynchronized fashion?

I still remember standing in the pitch-black wings of the Performing Arts Center (PAC) stage, anxiously peering through the curtains just like we were specifically instructed not to do. It was only a rehearsal, and our misty lavender costumes weren’t visible. Our made-up faces, however, didn’t blend into the darkness as well as we’d hoped. To my recollection, even behavioral lectures were fun with my team.

I still remember our 20-person Uno game. I took my turn first, and it took half an hour for me to go again. Two to six players recommended? I think not.

I still remember the red ribbons we used in our choreography project. I was hesitant, at first. Dancing with a prop was way out of my ballpark, and using something so bold and vivid would definitely draw attention to us all. The rest of my group, on the other hand, were ecstatic about it, waving and tossing the ribbons in an effortlessly elegant manner. Their energy was contagious.

I still remember that back-breaking (literally) lift we attempted. Everything was fine until my arm twisted and my face hit the floor. And everything was fine once more after I dusted off and tried again.

I still remember how you encouraged me at every tryout, right from the beginning. I wouldn’t have ever danced without you.

I still remember how we laughed together at our horrendous fouettes. Failing together is better than succeeding alone.

I still remember how you scolded me, but didn’t judge me, for eating lunch at 9 p.m. I hadn’t had breakfast, either.

I still remember how you always found a way to include me when discussing all of the latest “dance gossip.” Love you forever, bestie.

I still remember how you practiced countless routines with me everyday after school. Bruises, backaches, and sleep deprivation? Glad to hear we’re in the same boat.

I still remember how you cried on my shoulder and how I cried on yours after evaluation scores were released. I’m sure we both did better than expected (we didn’t).

I still remember how you hyped me up with that peppy Meghan Trainor song. “Even if they tried to,
they can’t do it like” we do!

I still remember how you never hesitate to shoot me a greeting, even if the passing period rush is at its peak. I’ll see you in between first and second period.

I still remember how you call out counts and guide everyone through routines. I couldn’t ask for a better co-dance captain to lead warm-ups with.

On a final note, I’m thankful for dance, not as the graceful movements in a performance, but as the group of close-knit individuals that I hope I never lose. I still remember everything you’ve done for me, and I won’t be forgetting anytime soon.