Nutcracker turned out to be a healthy dose of chaos mixed with a whirlwind of emotion, nerves and excitement. The backstage drama alternated from dancers almost fainting, losing their costumes —finding their costumes— worrying about their school bullies showing up to their performance, a few of the main acts crying from being overwhelmed, and all the best drama one could wish to experience backstage at a ballet. Everyone was sweating profusely, taking their shoes on and off from being sore and heaving in and out of breath as they rushed from onstage to offstage to do a quick change and to go back onstage. 

My only outlet for fitness was outdoors (and most of us because of Covid) and now we were sitting idly by, watching our computer screens and wearing even more masks, yet again.

I was feeling desperate. I had one ballet class (the only ballet class I knew of in the city) and it was tonight for one hour and I could hardly keep my composure as my toe nail throbbed and waited to fall off. I didn’t care. It would have to take a whole lot more than a broken toenail to keep me from dance class.