Memories of a time gone by

"The whispered conversations
In overcrowded hallways
The atmosphere
As thrilling here as always
Feel the early morning madness
Feel the magic in the making
Why, everything's as if we never said goodbye"

I feel like Norma Desmond sometimes, especially when speaking to anyone from my former profession. The dance is so much a part of me, a part of who and what I am. My earliest memories involve a barre and ballet shoes. I have been thinking about my former profession often, lately. I guess its because I never did get to say goodbye. In many ways, that allowed me to go out on top, but in many other ways, I didn't.
I guess it is just a time for reflection on the past. Part of it is because tomorrow marks ten years from my last performance. Not a day goes by when I don't think about it. Not a day goes by when I don't miss it. I can still smell the rosin, still feel the sweat as it runs down my spine, still hear the whisper of shoes across the floor. It seems like just yesterday the spotlight dimmed.
All it takes is the first note of a particular song, the first slow beats of a number, and I am right back there, back where it all started. Back to the days of blisters and strained muscles, the days of stretching and contorting.
While I would not trade the life I have today for anything in the world, I find myself often wondering about the what if's. What if I had continued. What if I didn't retire. What if I was still living in that world. The dance world has come a long way in the last ten years, how would I have adapted? Would I have pioneered some of those changes or would I have tried to stick with tradition?
I often wonder if I could make a comeback even if I wanted. Would I be stuck with character roles and corps positions? Would I be a principle again, or, dream upon dreams, a prima again? I don't often speak about my past. It is painful sometimes. I have gotten past it, but never over it. I will always be a ballerina, it is part of who I am, what I am. My first stirrings of masochism began in that dance studio.
While I miss the spotlight, the performances, the fans and parties, I don't miss starving myself, I don't miss the bloody feet, or the cramped toes. I don't miss the 18 hour days or the midnight choreography sessions. I miss the community. I miss the beauty and lines. I miss the fluidity of the movements and the innovation of my performances. I miss top billing.