The sun shines bright through my blinds, carrying a faint glow into the room. I turn over to my nightstand and feel for my phone, once I've uncovered it I examine the screen and it flashes 7:30 am. I roll out of bed and remember today is the day. The day I get to return to my happy place, the location where I can overlook everything in the moment and just breathe, my dance studio. As I am getting dressed for the day, I recall back to March 14th. The frigid studio at 9 am, barely being awake when I got there, eating lunch with all of my friends in the quiet room. On the last day, I danced in the studio before what was supposed to be a 2-week shutdown. If I had known that it would be the last in-person class, I would take for three months, I would've danced a lot harder. I walk downstairs for breakfast and discover my mom walking towards the back door to leave for work. 

“See you at 2 for dance?” She says as she walks out the door.

“Yes!” I say beaming with excitement. I eat breakfast and pull up my schedule on my phone. The luminous screen shows, 2:30- Jazz/Lyrical, 3:15- Ballet, 4:30- Leaps and Turns. I take a glance at the refrigerator, 9:00 flashes across the screen in white numbers, 5 more hours. Only 5 more hours until I can return to the studio. I don't recognize the pleasure that fills me. I have not felt this way for so long. For months it's been this is suspended and that is cancelled and see you on zoom. Which is not fun, not at all. 

I spend hours trying to pass the hours by rapidly. Unfortunately, it is the beginning of summer and it's unbelievably hot outside. Usually delightful activities outside like jumping on the trampoline or playing fetch with Milo have been ruined by the radiant yellow star in the sky. As I head inside the clock reads noon, 2 more hours. 2 more hours and I'm zoom free. 

The next thing I know the time has ultimately come. I race upstairs nearly slipping on the hardwood steps. Once I'm in my room I tear open my closet curtains and open my dance drawer grabbing shorts and a cropped black t-shirt. I pluck my dance bag out of the dusty corner in my closet. I haven't touched this bag in months. I check to make sure I have all my shoes. Jazz shoes check, tap shoes check, ballet shoes check, pointe shoes check. I grab my dance bag almost dropping it on the floor and run downstairs. I fill up my water bottle and fling my hair into a neat ponytail. I sit downstairs for a few moments hastily waiting for my mom. After three months how can 5 minutes feel like an eternity? Then, I hear the loud roaring commotion of the garage door. I run down the stairs and out into the warmth of the beaming summer daylight. I walk to the car and fling open the door on the passenger side. I sit on the heated black leather right next to my mom. She backs the car out of the driveway and we start the excursion to the dance studio. 

Once we are there I leap out and walk to the entrance. Julie takes my temperature, gives me hand sanitizer, and I'm in. I recognize my friends and settle my stuff on the tape line six feet away from theirs. Once everyone has arrived Julie announces the name of the combo song we will be doing. It's finally time. Time to dance. Time to express. Time to perceive happiness. We learn the combination and I have it memorized. The song is high emotion and filled with energy. We get to doing it in groups and I am so excited. It is officially my turn on the floor. The music begins and Julie counts us in and then I am in the moment. I've waited for this for three months. I can't believe the time has come. I am not thinking about what step arrives next or the fact that I can't stand next to my friends. I am just delighted to be there. With the people I love, doing the sport I cherish. I am sad to have missed out on three months of rehearsals and competitions, but I am so pleased to be back with my second family. The rest of the night goes by like the flash of a camera. 

I'm in the car on the way home. I can barely see 10 feet in front of the car. The only noticeable light is the moon glowing in the sky. The car clock reads 8:45 pm. We drive past familiar places to Mariemont. When I get home I get ready for bed and turn off my light. As I am laying in bed listening to the noise of my fan, I think about how great it was to spend time with my friends and dancing on the marley instead of my creaky wood floor in my room. I think how I should never take being able to dance for granted again because you never know when it could be taken away from you. My eyes close and everything goes black and just like that the day is over.