I’ve been in tights and ballet shoes for as long as I can remember, but I always dreamed of the day I could trade in my leotard and tutu for sequins and boots. Every Friday night since I was eight years old, I’d go with my parents to the high school football games and dreamed of one day dancing on that field at halftime in the sparkling uniform and white boots. Texas High School’s drill team was more than just a dance team, but it was every little girl’s dream. I was determined to be whirling around that field one day too.

Middle school is undoubtedly an awkward transitional time in everyone’s life. For me it was filled with wanting to fit into the mold of what everyone else thought was cool — and by everyone else I mean middle school boys. It seemed like if you were athletic, you were cool. Mind you, I haven’t an athletic bone in my body, but I was determined to find a sports team to make. After much deliberation, I decided volleyball was the perfect fit.

Somehow I convinced my parents to pay for volleyball lessons, and by some miracle I managed to make the team— though I was on the bench more than the court. I soon realized however that I absolutely hated volleyball. Anytime we had a lead, the coaches put me in, and each time I prayed that the ball wouldn’t come to me. In the last game of our season our coach put me in the game. The ball was served and to my dread, was headed in my direction. An unsuccessful attempt to dive for the ball left me on the ground with my knee twisted underneath me.

A few days and doctor visits later I found out I tore my ACL. Just my luck, I know. I decided this was the universe’s way of telling me— or more so shouting at me— sports weren't for me. I was relieved I would never force myself back onto a volleyball court again. After surgery and months of physical therapy, I was good as new and ready for drill team tryouts. It had been a while since I had danced, but I was excited. Although I was a little rusty, I made the team. It didn't take me long to realize that I was exactly where I belonged.

I remember the first time I got to put on the uniform— sequins, hat, boots, and all. I was so happy I could cry. My years on that team are my favorite memories from high school. From every Friday night dancing on the field, to every early morning practice, I soaked up each second. Although my path to fulfilling my younger self’s dream of being on the team had some obstacles and took a few detours, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.