Opening Night Jitters

Peeking out from behind the heavy red velveteen curtain, her stomach is beginning to churn and her mouth is going dry. The sight of all the audience seated in their noisy anticipation sends shivers down her spine. Letting the draping folds slip back into place, she wiped her sweaty palms on the tired towel that hung just to the right of her; there for that very purpose. "They would love it!" she pronounced. "But, what if they didn't?" she questioned. Many of her friends had come, by her invitation. "Oh! why had they come!?" She silently groaned, as she nervously wiped the sweat off her brow. Would they view her with familiarity or would they think her brilliant in her character? With only five minutes to spare and her heart pounding so dreadfully fast, she hurried back to her dressing room, wondering why she continued, every time, to put herself through this same experience. But, deep in her heart, she knew the answer. What a delicious, and gloriously defining moment it was when the last memorized word was uttered and the next second of silence ushered in the deafening, crashing applause. How undeniably sweet the terror of opening night; how torturously beautiful!