December 28, 2018
I have an ache in my heart. Its been there a long time.
When I was a little girl, I wanted to go to ballet class. I wanted to be a ballerina!
A beautiful ballerina who wore a fluffy pink dress and moved with grace and looked elegant.
But someone told me I couldn’t. That I’d never measure up, I was uncoordinated and clumsy!
“Ballet instructors are strict and uncompromising! They will yell at you and you will be embarrassed! You’ll get kicked out of class and they will laugh at you!“
So I took books out of the library, about ballet. First position, second position, beautiful photos of delicate young girls. Their hair twisted into a knot at the back of their necks, heads held high, eyes looking into the distance as though entranced.
A book, however, could only take me so far, and soon the dream was lost in the routine of growing up and becoming responsible. Lost as I pondered bigger questions and tackled greater problems than being told I could never dance.
Many years now I have been a Gramma and have taken children to see the Nutcracker Ballet every Christmas. And every year, as beauty unfolds on stage, the dream sparks anew, my heart yearns, and I wish again that I could do THAT! I want to do THAT!
And so now, though I am 75 and will never be a ballerina on stage, I ordered a book from Barnes and Noble on beginning ballet. And found a Dance Studio willing to dream with me. Next week I have my first lesson, a private lesson just for me. Just for me so that I can dance in my own living room.
Just for me, I will dance when I want. I shall not hide. I will wear a flouncy pink ballet skirt and I will be beautiful. And in my heart I will be a ballerina! And my heart will no longer ache.