and practice after practice began to imbed in my mind and my reflexes each step. I still couldn't see how close to the edge of the stage Ben and I were during the waltz of the tornado, but I trusted him now not to let me swan dive into the audience. Countdown to opening night began as costumes, props and sets were found or created. I only had one small worry. Ok, that's a complete lie. I had many, but one of them was the lack of dressing rooms. Somehow, a 3-ft. wide alley that ran the length of the theatre, separated from the audience by only a thin black curtain, and with no lighting to speak of, seemed a bit, well, inconvenient. Especially, since both boys and girls would be using it. Fortunately, the mayor of West Jordan came to the rescue and 2 separate dressing rooms with actual doors and a window were built out back. The walls and floor were
bare particle-board, but there were nails to hang our costumes on and we each brought in mirrors and chairs, so we were set. Practice was every night now and getting longer by the minute. I was ready to perform! Enough of these practices, bring on the audiences! But suddenly it was time to put on my costume and spend an hour curling my hair for real, not just for dress rehearsal. Nerves began running around in my stomach and I anxiously gathered everything I would need and placed the items in a box. Costumes, check. Props, check. Makeup, hairspray, check. I even had
bottled water and crackers. I was ready, but then I realized that I would be the very first person to step foot on the stage that night, the very first person to say their lines and I knew I wasn't ready at all. What in the world was I doing? This kind of fear should not be voluntary, much less practiced for. I got in my car, after many well-wishes of "break a leg" from my roommates, and drove to the theatre. I was overly early, but I wasn't alone. All too soon the audience began to arrive and as the overture began to play, I took one last look in the mirror, willing myself to relax and enjoy the experience of opening night. I walked to the back of the stage, positioning myself behind the curtain with my little "troop" dancing anxiously behind me. I listened to the swells of the music and the excited murmur of the crowd and then our cue sounded and the curtain was raised.....
bare particle-board, but there were nails to hang our costumes on and we each brought in mirrors and chairs, so we were set. Practice was every night now and getting longer by the minute. I was ready to perform! Enough of these practices, bring on the audiences! But suddenly it was time to put on my costume and spend an hour curling my hair for real, not just for dress rehearsal. Nerves began running around in my stomach and I anxiously gathered everything I would need and placed the items in a box. Costumes, check. Props, check. Makeup, hairspray, check. I even had 
bottled water and crackers. I was ready, but then I realized that I would be the very first person to step foot on the stage that night, the very first person to say their lines and I knew I wasn't ready at all. What in the world was I doing? This kind of fear should not be voluntary, much less practiced for. I got in my car, after many well-wishes of "break a leg" from my roommates, and drove to the theatre. I was overly early, but I wasn't alone. All too soon the audience began to arrive and as the overture began to play, I took one last look in the mirror, willing myself to relax and enjoy the experience of opening night. I walked to the back of the stage, positioning myself behind the curtain with my little "troop" dancing anxiously behind me. I listened to the swells of the music and the excited murmur of the crowd and then our cue sounded and the curtain was raised.....
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