I experienced magic tonight in its purest form. My best friends and I went to the nutcracker and it was utterly transformative. The Boston opera house alone was enough to make your eyes dazzle with the numerous chandeliers and obscenely intricate ceiling structures. The lighting was straight out of a fantasy and the joy and holiday spirit amidst the crowd was awe-inspiring.
I didn’t really watch it from my eyes however, I watched it from the eyes of the little girl sitting next to me. Her very own prince, her father, took her to the Nutcracker. There was another girl behind her sitting gleefully with her father as well. And behind me, were a mother and grandmother on either side of their beautiful little sugar plum. Whispering in all their excitement about the night they’d been anticipating for months, a night that her grandmother had probably been looking forward to for years. All the girls were dressed to the nines though they themselves couldn’t have been more than 7. They wore sparkly dresses, intricate braids, and fantastical headbands. They twirled to show off their petite heels and the wide trains on their dresses. They giggled as their grandmothers and parents made them pose for picture, willingly jumping into a ballet position.
The eyes that I watched the nutcracker through belonged to the girl sitting next to me. Unable to sit in her seat because the excitement was coursing through her heart, she sat on her knees on top of her seat. She hummer as they danced and whispered to the little girl behind her what was about to happen. And they both locked eyes and squealed in absolute delight. Then, this part will get you, she got up and started doing the ballet in the aisle. She knew every move, tilting her legs and arms gracefully mimicking Clara and the Sugar Plum fairy perfectly. She was entranced by the magic that was on stage, and I was entranced by the wonderful gift of hope that the ballet bestowed on everyone in the audience.