For one weekend only

I love movies and books where the main character goes somewhere away from their normal life and experiences a life altering change. They have a forbidden romance in another country that their friends and home will never know about. They learn how to stand up for themselves after experiencing a fight for the first time. They go to college and experience a number of things that, when reuniting with their high school friends, remain stories, but the battle scars and intrigue is slightly shown on their faces. That's kind of how circus was for me. It was something different that my original college friends didn't know about. I'd go to practices, shows, parties, summer camps and come back different, changed. More aware, more secure in myself. I'd have a slightly changed demeanor and stories untold hiding behind my eyes.

Every year the circus alumni come together for the annual homeshow. We all flock up to Tallahassee and watch the show, reflecting on stories from yesteryear and stating how we were so much better back in the day. After, we spend the night partying, reminiscing, and talking to current performers - warning them that it is true, you do gain weight immediately after leaving.

The first time was the hardest. Sitting in the stands, rather than in the net, I grabbed hold of Samir's hand, squeezing the blood out of it. I knew the tricks, I knew the acts, but I was still nervous for them. Would Mitch catch the double? Would Shannon's new flip hold? Of course, Samir was unfazed by the millions of thoughts running through my head as I calculated how long it would be until the next act, next trick. Part of me was excited, cheering loudly for my friends, whereas the other part was slightly envious. I missed the action. I missed performing. I wanted to be with them, putting up the poles and setting up the nets.

And so it goes that every year is the same, only with less pressure and less desire. I still sit in the stands, but my friends who stayed for graduate schoole are next to me now, not performing. I watch the acts and compare them to mine, but I'm not jealous anymore. My time is over.

This weekend I get to go up again. Saturday morning Samir and I are driving up to Tallahassee to see one more circus performance and go to one more alumni afterparty. I'm starting to get really excited. It's a nice excuse to have, every year, for seeing my friends.

Last year, sitting tight between Megan and Jeff, we watched flying trapeze, wide eyed. "Look at her legs, they're completely bent!" Megan whispered as Anna lept off the peaboard. "Remember when she did this trick for the first time? She almost killed Jack," I answered. "Remember when she did passing leap with me? She almost killed ME," Megan retorted. After Anna caught the trick and returned to the board, the crowded cheered and so did we. People behind us quietly asked "do you know them?" in regards to the performers. "Yeah," the three of us answered, "we used to be in the circus too," Jeff continued with the grin of a proud father. "Must have been fun," the lady answered, smiling, all while watching Dana glide into the catcher's hand.

"It really was," I mused. "You honestly have no idea."