This is why i put up with the pain, the way I do.

The white envelopes peeked out at me from inside the maroon letterbox. Whoever designed that disgusting piece of metal ought to be sued. The postman must think our family was derelict. But this also meant that Mum wasn’t home yet. Good, I thought. I loved coming home to an empty house. My hand reached around the side, grasped the latch and swung the door open absent-mindedly. Pulling out the letters roughly, I glanced at the address lines. As soon as I glimpsed the ‘aspa’ logo, I ruffled every page of my mind in search of any strand of information that would tell me what was so important to the AGC to send me a letter. I started making my way up our dead grass to the front path when my mind gave a jolt. Letters were never sent unless in the extreme case that music school had been cancelled (Shock! Horror!) or if you had gained acceptance into a specialist group. I stared at the logo in wonder.


A rush of electricity ran through me as I revisited my Ballare audition in my head. Last Thursday, before our normal choir rehearsal, (but after my first ever Bel Canto class!) we were asked to attend a one hour dance audition. Typically, I managed to leave my dance shoes at home, so I was the only person out of about 40 girls who had bare feet. It was humiliating! I kept my head down the whole audition, but still tried my best at the routine. It didn’t even feel that difficult, it was just a matter of finding your centre of gravity and moving your weight around. Even so, I didn’t feel like I had done my best; it felt like embarrassment of the shoe dilemma was weighing me down.

I shook myself back to the present. My house key was sitting in the metal lock, waiting to be turned. I must’ve looked like a moron, standing on the front step like a statue. I forced myself to get inside before I opened the letter. I knew if it was an acceptance, then I would be bouncing off the walls. Better to save myself some humiliation this week.

Once my bag had been dropped on the carpet and the letters delivered to the kitchen bench, I stood and stared at the logo that was once again, in plain sight. Most of the envelope was hiding underneath Monday’s other mail, school fees mostly. But I had eyes only for those four yellow letters. Finally, I grabbed the letter and eagerly sat myself on the edge of the couch. There seemed to be a little voice inside of me growing louder and more desperate and my fingers slipped and shook with excitement. I couldn’t get it open fast enough. The letter folded open on my fingertips.

‘At the recent Ballare auditions, Ms McDonald Booth was delighted by the standard demonstrated. All of the auditionees are capable of acceptance, however…’

Ugggghh, it just went on and on! I skimmed down to the end of that first paragraph where that vital line was waiting to be read.

‘…very pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a member of Ballare for 2010.’

My fingers froze, but my blood still ran warm through my veins. A yen master would have been proud with the stillness that my body gave. A mind-blowing aura of peace radiated from my body and filled the whole room, rebounding off the walls and slamming back into me. Realisation slapped me across the face, but I just grinned. The shock of actually being accepted was like nothing I had ever felt before. After all these years of frustration, agony and patience, somebody had noticed me. Finally.

Tears spilled out of my eyes and ran down my cheeks as I let myself go wild. Ecstatic screams escaped my lips. I couldn’t stop my feet from moving, all I wanted to do was jump up and down until all my energy ran out. While this was happening, I flashed back in my mind to the day I received my acceptance into the Performing Choir. I remembered that the pure happiness I felt was exactly the same. I cried harder with sheer bliss.

Written by Taylor Simes, on the 15th of February, 2010.