Personal Narrative: My First Ballet

I was four years old when I went to see my first ballet. It was being performed by the New York City Ballet at the Lincoln Center. My Grandmother thought that by age four I could sit quietly. In her wisdom, she knew once the orchestra was introduced it wouldn't take long, and I would drop all interest in telling the person next to me all about my new red firetruck. I was mesmerized by the Nutcracker and barely blinked as the stage came to life with color and story. I can even remember the smells – odd for a child, but all my senses were put on high alert as I took it all in. I consciously realize the thread of grace that was so intricate throughout the production, and as I relived those moments as a first-timer it was within everyone of my recollections.

After the performance my Grandmother had a treat lined up for herself. She took me to the backstage door exit where the artists left the building after the lights went low and the general audience departed. As a lover of the arts, Grandmother always enjoyed thanking the artists as they left the magic of the theater for their everyday lives. As a child I was wide eyed to discover that the dancers and musicians didn't get the royal treatment they gave their audience. Of course, some were appreciated more …show more content…
Certainly not ordinary in their talent, but they were human beings with regular lives, rents and mortgages, families to care for and insurance payments to make. Not quite all of that sunk into my four year old mind, but I did see them as artists who must have loved what they did. The love of performing didn't always come with fame and fortune. The rewards had to have been a job well done, and leaving each performance with a sense of personal satisfaction. While on stage or in the orchestra pit playing the oboe or dancing to the rhythm of it must leave the realms of the personal and enter into the vast world of the