I stared at my brother in despair as he triumphantly held up the thimble. My hopes had been set on winning ever since my grandpa suggested the game that he had so many fond memories of. Now, I bitterly accepted defeat as we started a new round of Hide the Thimble. My grandpa and I set off to the laundry room so that my brother could take his turn to hide the small object. He soon called us out and the hunt began. My grandma quickly joined the game and the three of us searched for what felt like an eternity. I walked around the small island in the center of the kitchen, glancing at the counters in hopes of finding the thimble. As I continued to walk, a small glint caught my eye. I gasped in excitement and ran to the fridge for further inspection. And there it was, hiding above the door to the fridge. I quickly picked the thimble up and placed in on my thumb, crying out in joy, “I found it!”

The round ended and my grandpa went back out to the pole-barn to work, while my grandma returned the thimble to its rightful place in her sewing room. I was glad I won, but I knew it was more important that I had fun playing it. The game seemed kind of silly when my grandpa described it, but it ended up being cool to play a game that my grandpa had grown up playing.

With dance season right around the corner, we have perfromance after performance stacked into our schedules. At our last couple of practices, we have been dancing up until to the last minute as we try to finish up all of our dances right before season starts. Tonight ended up being one of our most productive nights. We finished Gypsy, which we have been working on for months now, and Taylor and I finished our duet that we are performing with my grandma’s band. I can’t wait to be able to perform these dances that we expect have all worked so hard on. After investing so much time and energy into these dances, I am proud of how they turned out.

I take a quick five minute break from my homework to write my slice. After nearly four hours of sports practices, I am finally sitting down to do my math and history. I struggle through my math as fast as possible in attempt of finishing early so that just maybe, I could get enough sleep tonight. Wasting no time. I return to the daunting homework.

We rolled an old red tarp across the hall and and laid out our materials. Once we were all situated, Taylor and I dipped our paint rollers into the creamy white paint. With bold strokes, we covered the wall in the paint, the old pencil drawing fading into nothingness. The drawing that ended up on the wall was too different from the original plan, so it was our job to cover it up, so that it could be redrawn. I pressed with a roller against the wall and a few drops of paint flew off. I cried out as a bit landed in my hair. Laughing it off, we continued painting and making a mess until the bell rang. Students flooded into the hallways, openly wondering why we already got rid of a drawing that was just put up in the recent few weeks. Ignoring the comments, we hastily brought the paint tray, rollers, and our stool back to the art room before rolling up the red tarp and heading off to tennis practice.

We danced in the small hallway of my kitchen, dodging my dog who was lying very conveniently in the middle of the hall. In between ideas, we dashed back to the counter to eat a spoonful of our ice cream. The ice cream had been sitting in the freezer for just too long, so the texture was grainy and honestly kind of gross, yet we finished our bowls with out a problem anyways.

We quickly returned back to the hall and tested out different steps. Bouncing ideas off of each other, we began to get a good base for the choreography of our dance. We took bits and pieces of different steps that we know, and we added our own twists to them to make them perform-able. However, we were only able to get about two steps into the dance before we had to get ready for our first performance of the season. We temporarily abandoned our dance, though it was far from done. Tomorrow we will hopefully make much more progress.

I stared helplessly at the math problem in front of me. The angle measures just didn’t add up. I slowly blinked, counting up the two angles again and getting the same results. An incorrect angle measure and confusion. Someone before me had drawn their work into the book already, yet I couldn’t make out how they got their answers. I sighed and moved on to the next problem to see if it was any easier. No luck. The two problems were nearly identical. I flipped through my notes, attempting to find something that would help me realize my mistake. Unable to find anything, I took another deep breath and closed my notebook, deciding I could ask for help tomorrow. Setting the work aside with a thud, I moved on to my history.

I wobbled across the ice, clutching the wall tightly to prevent myself from falling. By the end of my first lap, I dared to venture away from the wall. Taylor skated slowly a few feet ahead of me. I pushed my skates into the ground, trying to speed up to catch up with my friend.

“Watch out!” I shrieked, as I came up behind Taylor way too fast. I lost my balance and grabbed onto her for support. We both yelped in alarm, sticking our arms our for balance. Luckily, we managed to stay on our feet.

We continued to slowly skate around the rink, catching up with our other friends and eventually gaining the confidence to dare to go faster. After the first incident, we nearly fell multiple more times, yet no one actually landed on the ground. By the time we left the Summit, we had memories, pictures and sore legs, yet all the soreness was worth it for the memories that we made.

I lied down on the couch and plugged my headphones in. With my cat curled up beside me, I cranked the volume up on my phone and turned on Ed Sheeran’s new album. The music quickly engulfed me, and I was instantly transported into a new world. After listening to Taylor rave about the album’s release all day, I wanted nothing more than to just sit and listen. Losing myself in the lyrics, I texted my friends and scrolled through social media. The new music filled my brain, some lyrics making me smile, and others sending chills along my arms. I quickly picked my favorite songs out of the album and put them into a new playlist that I would listen to on repeat for the next several weeks. Now I sit content on the couch with my music and writing momentarily removing my from the outside world.

I drag my tired body out of the warm comfort of my bed, my muscles shouting in protest. After such a long day of sports practices, writing my slice is one the last things I want to do. I desperately want sleep. My warm bed calls my name, but I force myself to write. Thursdays are one of my busiest days of the week, and some how I always manage to have tons of homework on top of it all. Squeezing in dinner and homework in between an hour of weight lifting and nearly four hours of dance proves to be a difficult task. Adding the fact that I also have to write my slice just makes things a little more difficult. Nonetheless, I still love everything I do. If I had a real problem, I would just stop doing it. Investing such long hours into my sports can be a hassle, but my improvement as an athlete is visible. And so I continue to practice and write into the long hours of the night, knowing that come first hour tomorrow, I will definitely wish I had went to bed earlier. Yawning, I give in to my weary limbs and drooping eyelids, and decide to call it a night.

I wake with a start to the sound of my alarm. Groping at the sheets around me, I attempt to find my phone to end the ceaseless noise. As soon as I am able to shut off the alarm and shake myself into complete consciousness, a series of emotions flood over my brain. I’ve been counting down for March for the last two months and the ideas of dance season starting up and slice of life starting again is enough to put me in a pretty good mood, considering the fact that it is six in the morning. March has always been my favorite month. Performances, fish fries, daily blog posts, and tennis practice should be enough to keep me busy. As an Irish dancer, writer, and tennis player, I’ve got a lot to look forwards to for the next 31 days. .