The Stage That Lives On

Seemingly huge concrete steps guide my nine year old feet to the massive glass doors that will sweep me into the place that I will soon call my second home. The sign out front reads in big, bold letters: West Memphis Performing Auditorium. It’s the day of my first play; my naive little mind has no clue the joy and adrenaline rush that will come from this day and so many more like it. I’m soon whisked away into my dressing room and clothed in my towns-person costume for “Charlotte’s Web.”
Before I can even blink, it’s show time. We’re praying, singing, and even doing the Hokey Pokey to prepare for the audience that expects a magnificent show. The lights come up, the opening act starts. The play goes smoothly, just how we planned.
It’s not until curtain call that I get a sense of pure happiness and excitement. I run out hand in hand with my fellow chorus members and the booming claps of the audience both startle and please me. This is the start of a whole new life for me.

It’s not until my next play, “Annie,” that I realize how much I genuinely enjoy being in the auditorium. Being a main role, I got to be in the “good” dressing room. On show day, I arrive adorned in my costume as Pepper, a dirty apron and worn out boots; excitement and butterflies bubble up in my stomach. Wigs are being thrown around, hairspray is being sprayed, and fake bruises are being applied to the orphans in our dressing room. A general feeling of nervousness hangs in the air. We go through scene after scene, song after song, perfecting everything to prepare to put on the biggest production that Delta Arts has ever done.
My eleven year old heart pounds as I wait for the curtain to reveal the first scene, in which I have the second line. When my cue line is said, I take a deep breath and yell,
“Shut up Molly!”
The audience explodes in laughter and my heart swells at the joy of being the reason for that. Scenes shift and songs are sung, making the audience experience every emotion along the way. Having actual lines is a completely different and even more exciting feeling that just being in the ensemble. When it comes to curtain call, I’m standing behind the other main orphans, ready to run out and take our bows.  I am flabbergasted to see the audience on their feet, exerting the loudest claps I've ever heard in my life. The bows are done and the curtains are closed, but the adrenaline is still pumping through our veins. We just successfully performed the biggest show Crittenden County has ever seen.

Bittersweet emotions and stifled tears hang in the atmosphere as my fourteen year old feet shuffle along side the close friends I've made throughout all 12 plays. We trudge up the dull concrete steps to the thin glass doors and step into the auditorium for the last time in this way. The plush red carpet and gold ropes surrounding us taunt us, whispering how we'll never get to view them in the same way again after today. We hook arms and make out way to the wide corridor that will lead us to the dressing room for the last time. Opening the door and smelling the familiar scent, images of countless costume changes and entertaining ourselves during breaks dance in front of me. I look to the mirror, and instead of seeing my fourteen year old self, I see my 10 year old self, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail for her role as Pepper in Annie. I see my 11 year old self, preparing for her first solo in The Velveteen Rabbit. I see my 12 year old self curling her hair and putting on uncomfortable heels for her role as the Blues Fairy Mama in Pinocchio. I see my 13 year old self dancing around with her cast mates in Greece. The images fade, and reality brings me back to my fourteen year old self, hollow and watery eyes threatening to spill tears.
I'm snapped back into reality when the dressing room door opens and our past and present director walks in, a feeble smile on her face.
"I'm so proud of you girls. Do great tonight. I know you will." she says and simply turns and walks out of the room. We exchange sighs as we continue to prepare for our last time stepping on the stage that changed our lives.
It's showtime now and the four girls who grew up in this auditorium alongside me and I are preparing a speech and getting a poster together for our director post-show. We know it needs to be special, so we do everything we can.
The show is nothing big, just a little kid's fable story, but it goes great and we savor our last curtain call like no tomorrow. When the clapping ceases, our director comes to the stage and hands us flowers and gifts. All of our eyes are teary and on the verge of spilling over, but we hold it in for the sake of the audience. The other girls give their speeches and finally it's time for mine. The cold black metal of the microphone is livid in my hand as I shakily bring it up to my mouth.
"For the five years that I have been at this auditorium, I've come to realize that there really is such thing as a home away from home. And there are people who can really become your second family without you even realizing it. That's what these plays have done for me. From stepping out on this stage as a terrified 9 year old to standing right here today, I've gained so many friendships and incredible memories over the years. I couldn't have asked for a better experience over the last five years. I love every single person I've been along side on this stage. I hope they know that. We will all miss this so much, but we know that our time is over and we have to let a new group of hopeful kids come in and take our places. But no matter what, this stage will have a place in our hearts forever. Always."

I haven't stepped on that stage in two years now, and I would do anything to go back. When I picture it, I picture the dancing and singing and running I've done on that stage that I will never forget. The memories in the dressing room, backstage, and in every single corner of that building will be etched into my mind forever. That stage is my home. The years may pass and new little feet will bound the floor of that stage, but the characters that we played will live on forever.