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Showing posts from August, 2014

Tiny Dancer

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I turned to face the far wall of the dance studio, adjusted my grip on the ballet barre and assumed fourth position. 

"PliƩ. And. Up." Mrs. Sullivan instructed.

I loved facing that wall because the previous year's recital pictures were displayed there. I marveled at the older girls' costumes and would fancy being "on toe" in my ballet shoes or in high heel tap or jazz shoes just like them. There was a grace that the older girls carried that I could only hope to obtain as I continued to grow in the school.

When Mrs. Sullivan prompted us to begin our grand battements (a.k.a barbie kicks) I felt a sudden sharp pain in my stomach that was quickly followed by a hint of nausea. It would pass I thought to myself. I looked out into the crowd of parents and caught my Mother's eyes. She smiled attentively and gave me a little wink. It was parent observation day at dance class and like most eight-year-old wanna-be-ballerinas, I couldn't wait for my Mommy to …