Hours after hours of rehearsal

countless late weekend nights at the studio

and a lifetime’s worth of bobby pins, dance shoes, and ripped tights.

All for the next two and a half minutes.

So much hairspray that a tornado couldn’t mess up our ballerina buns

makeup done so carefully that you couldn’t even begin tell anyone apart

and a hundred dollar costume that we would never wear again.

Just for the next two and a half minutes.

Bruised knees that were more black and blue than tan

sore backs that made us feel like we were eighty years old

and scraped up feet that looked like we had run through a field of glass.

All for the next two and a half minutes.

But the memories that would last so much longer.

The apples to apples games at the studio lock-in

and the Taco Bell runs before ballet class

and the jokes that only made sense when you were about to die of exhaustion.

Because it was never about two and a half minutes.

Because no two and a half minutes are worth everything we put into it.

But the best friends that will last two and a half lifetimes are.