Standing in the light of blazing lamps on the wide stage of the auditorium, I gazed up at the walls painted with more than thirty years of messages and names and artwork and absorbed the theatrical aura that radiated throughout the room. At first, it was impossible to summarize it in a single word; it was energy and intensity and drama and laughter and a hundred little inside jokes that only the thespians could understand. It was the orchestra and the balcony and the control room and backstage, and it was curtains and costumes and a starry night sky right through an open door. Even devoid of its trademark actors and actresses meandering across the well-roamed black stage, it felt of family.
It was not my family. I have my immediate family and my extended family, subdivided into my dad families and my mom family. I have my family of friends, and I have my Key Club family, my GSA family, and my babysitting family. To me, a family is made of people you wouldn't give up for the world, no matter if they were not always nice, and a family is people you love. Shielding my eyes against the bright lights in that slightly intimidating auditorium, I felt the generations of the drama family forming a collective conviction: this is the unbeatable, untamable drama family. I am not a part of this family, and though I may join Drama Club, or take the drama class to fulfill my fine arts requirement, I have the unshakable feeling that I will never be a part of this family.
I'm OK with that. I love the stage and all that is associated with it, but I'm never going to be an actress. I can only envy the one family that will never be mine, but I am fortunate enough to have many others that will guide me, and I will have to be content with that for now.