A few weeks ago, as I was busy signing my daughter up for her seemingly endless dance classes with her studio’s dance company, I decided to take a bold step of my own: I signed up for adult ballet.
My daughter finds this absolutely hilarious. It’s been over twenty years since I last took a ballet class, and as part of the deal, I’ve had to promise not to participate in the recital. To make matters even more amusing, she has veto power over any leotards I might want to wear to “her” studio. Little does she know, it was my studio long before it was hers.
Many moons ago, in a land far, far away, my sister and I were regulars at this very studio, albeit under different ownership. Back then, she was known for her grace and skill on the dance floor, while I earned a reputation as the studious one. I stopped dancing around high school, but my passion for it never faded. Life took over with college chemistry labs, a Ph.D. dissertation, law school, and raising three kids, leaving little room for dance.
Now, though, I’ve found a window of opportunity. I might not execute the perfect pliés and relevés, and my daughter might be snickering at me from the sidelines, but this time is for me. It’s a chance to reconnect with a piece of my past and indulge in a love I’ve kept on the back burner for far too long.
Here’s to finding joy in the journey, no matter how wobbly or imperfect it may be. As I step back into the ballet studio, I’m not just revisiting an old passion; I’m embracing a new chapter where I get to be both a mom and a dancer, however comically mismatched that might look.
The laughter from the other side of the studio’s glass window is just a reminder that life’s best moments often come with a side of humor and humility. So here’s to dancing with a heart full of nostalgia and a spirit eager to learn. Whether it’s a perfect pirouette or a less-than-graceful tumble, I’m ready to enjoy every step of this dance.
