“I can do this. I can.”

My positive self talk was the only thing that I could do as I waited in the hall. It had been a long day of being patient, as the number of potential dancers dwindled.

When I had arrived at 7 that morning, there was at least 150 men and women ready to try out for the lead role in the theatre’s fall production. I watched as they entered the auditorium one by one. And one by one, I watched them all leave, some with heavy hearts and down case eyes. Others left with a spring in their step and hope in their smiles. I didn’t know how I was going to leave my audition, but I was doing my best to hope.

“I can do this. I am capable. I am talented. I can land this part.”

My shallow breathing started to get louder as the hall continued to empty. Soon, there was just a handful of us waiting for our names to be called. I looked around at the competition, pleased to see that I wasn’t the only one that was wrenched with worry and overwhelmed with possibility.

“Sammy Bereta.”

That’s me. I can do this. I can.