The Winning Waltz

I slowly walk, arms linked expertly, with my partner onto the dance floor. With years of experience on my side, it was far too familiar and far too easy to accomplish but it was not important if I did this pat right or wrong, it is the next part that counts. I quickly take positions with m partner and wait for the music to start. I have to do this perfectly. This was the last dance, the last chance of the night to reach my goal.

My goal has always been the same in these few over glorified moments. I strive to be the best there is in the USADBA. I yearn to win and deserve first place. This goal has led me to compete for the past eight years and it is what will lead me to compete for years to come. This competition I am attending right now should be the thirtieth I have attended thus far.

The butterflies in my stomach slowly, yet quickly enough, disappear as the music starts. I hold my stance until my partner gives me the signal to start. I hear my heart pounding in my ears, but not loud enough to drown out the music. I lose all sense of reality as I venture into my joyously engrossed mind, set on the gold metal (or blue ribbon, whichever it will be this time).

The signal is given and our dancing story begins. Our choreography is that of any highly experienced gold dancer: impetus turns, heel turns, lock steps, natural turns, side step motions, and many more moves within our routine. I meet every one of my partner's signals on a move and never falter for I know this little scheme by heart. I hold my smile, keep my head raised high to the left (turning it to the right only when signaled to do so b my partner), point my toes, hold my arms in position, and give it the emotional touch that the dance piece calls for. I pore all my hopes and dreams into my motions and pray that it is enough to achieve my goal. The music slows, signaling my partner and me that the dance will end shortly. With this in mind both of us use the last of our strength we happen to have left to pull off our grand, overly practiced (hours upon hours of grueling practice), and perfect finish.

*** This is something I wrote for a writing project a three years ago. I was really proud of how it came out and I hope you like it.