A Night to Remember
The lights dim. The music starts. The curtains open and there before our eyes unfolds the magic of The Park City Nutcracker. The next seventy-five minutes are filled with graceful snow angels, playful mice and soldiers, dancing elephants and breathtaking ballerinas.
My eyes are focused on a single dancer who will perform as both a Raggedy Andy and a Gingerbread. I patiently wait for my 9-year-old daughter, whose true passion in life is dance, to take the stage. Never mind that this is her third year in a row performing. Set aside the fact that in the last week I've seen the performance half a dozen times. Forget that I've spent countless hours listening to the CD and can practically perform the dances myself. This is her moment. Her time to shine. The pride I feel is indescribable.
When we moved to Park City, my daughter gave up dance to "try" gymnastics for a year. That lasted all of three months until I made the tactical error of taking our family to see The Nutcracker performed by Ballet West in Salt Lake City. My husband and son were beyond bored during the three-hour performance. But not our little dancer. She was transfixed and announced on the way home that she was done with gymnastics and ready to go back to dance.
We enrolled her in Park City Dance, simply because it was the closest studio to our house (and my son could take karate at the same time.) Little did I know that this reputable studio was the home of the Park City Nutcracker and my daughter would become one of 75 dancers performing in the annual Park City tradition.
The show performed by the students of Park City Dance is on par with Ballet West (but only half as long.) Even my husband, an admitted non-ballet aficionado, is astonished by the professional level of dancing exhibited by Park City youth from kindergarteners to high schoolers.
When my daughter finally takes the stage, she is clearly in her element. No nerves. No missteps. Just beauty, grace and poise (I'm still not sure where in the gene pool this originates.) During the final curtain call, she visibly basks in the applause and her smile could light up the entire auditorium.
At the end of every Nutcracker, I drag my exhausted self and yawning ballerina home with relief. But, there is always a little part of me (and a big part of my Raggedy Andy/Gingerbread) that goes to sleep dreaming of next year's magical night.
Liz Yokubison is a freelance writer, mother of twins and "dance mom." She will be attending both performances of the Park City Nutcracker on Saturday, December 13th. Tickets can be purchased by calling 435-658-2345.
Email
Print
Feed
Your comment may be edited for brevity and foul language.
Reader Comments:
Her grandfather on her mother's side is moved to tears with pride for both.
Liz's passion for her daughter, and the rest of her family, is evident in this beautifully-written blog! I enjoyed every word of her elegant prose, and I felt as if I were sitting in that auditorium waiting for the stage lights to shine on little dancers, and for the orchestra to begin playing. How fortunate this dancer-daughter is to have a mom who is so devoted to her joy, and so loving. Thanks, Liz, for the eloquent piece!