A Dream Come True

As a child, I wanted so much to take ballet lessons. Some of the other girls in the neighborhood were doing this, and also taking tap dancing. I didn't care a bit about the tap, but oh the ballet! I asked my parents and was told, flatly, "No." I never asked why. That wouldn't have gone over well. I got library books about girls studying ballet; I would no sooner take Noel Streatfeild's Ballet Shoes back to the library than I would check it out again. I didn't care about attending ballet performances (not that I would have had that opportunity either); I just wanted to do it. On our first trip to Sweden, when I saw the Degas sculpture that was on loan at the Glyptotek Museum, I had trouble tearing myself away from it. The memory of that yearning was strong.

When Sherry was a little girl, she took dance lessons for a year or so at a local studio. Neither of us can remember why she stopped.

Caroline began taking lessons at Miss Jane's studio when she was three years old. It's been good for her in so many ways. Her posture is superb. She is graceful. She understands dedication. She is confident. She doesn't know what stage fright is. She's going to be twelve in a couple of months, and at this point she is at Miss Jane's several nights a week, taking -- I think -- five classes. She's finished all of the Arabic numeral classes, where one is placed by age and moved into the Roman numerals, where one is placed by ability, and this September she was invited to join the pre pointe class.

Two weeks ago, Sherry sent me a photo of Caroline at the store, wearing her first pair of pointe shoes.  I was astonished to find tears in my eyes as I looked at the photo. A few days later came a picture of my granddaughter wearing the shoes (for just five minutes at this stage) in class. The other evening I was asked to perform a special service for a special person. The pointe shoes come in a bright purple mesh bag; it is important that they have the air circulate around them when they are off the feet (oh, I'm learning so much). And the thing is, every girl in the class has a pair of pink pointes in a purple mesh bag. So they need to find a way to personalize that bag, so no one picks up the wrong one.

I had a fine time this afternoon fussy cutting and bonding farm animals doing warm-up exercises onto a purple bag. Caroline's young, and loves animals. I think she'll be pleased. When she grows older and wants something more sophisticated, I'll just take that piece off and make something else. 

After all, it's my dream come true -- just twice removed.

Yes, this pair is the right one.

Pointe class.