Two weeks ago, I started ballet class with my sweet daughter, Cecily. We do this together one night a week and will continue through mid-June. The purpose is to learn a dance routine that we will perform together (along with several other moms and their daughters) in the dance recital at TPAC in June. This is something new for me. I haven't danced at all since high school - and while I enjoyed it as a teenager, I was never what one would characterize as a "dancer". As I began these classes with Cecily, I really thought I would be more of a "prop" - that she would do most of the dancing. Not so. No, I am learning ballet. Toes pointed, fingers just so (palms NEVER face the audience), everything is slow and drawn out. I've already had sore muscles (which goes to show how out of shape I am!). And sadly, I must admit that I have trouble remembering everything we've learned from week to week...
Did I ever in a million years think I would be doing this?? No. Does it warm my heart every time I look over at Cecily and see her huge grin as she watches her 39-year old mother try to look like a graceful ballerina? Absolutely. I wouldn't trade this experience for anything.
No comments:
Post a Comment