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Archive for May 7th, 2017


When I was little, grade school little, I did ballet in summer school.  That was back when there was more to do in summer school than just make up classes. You could take dance or gymnastics or second language classes.  I think I only did it one summer, because I would up eventually doing gymnastics and then soccer, then Irish dancing. But I remembered the ballet.  

My cousin Monica had a poster in her bedroom wall of a ballerina leaning down to tie her slippers and man, I wanted to be that girl.  The photo was blown out with light to make it all glowy and ethereal and it was so beautiful.   In my head, I would take it up again, put on those pointe shoes, and immediately be as good as Karen Kain.  I was sure of it.  

But life had other plans for me and I did not become a prima ballerina.  Nor a broadway star, famous singer, fashion designer or famous writer.  (Im still working on that last one). Instead I had a family.  I watched my own children find which stars they wanted to hitch their dreams to and I helped them whenever and however I could. 

A funny thing happens when you get older and the kids start being adults. You start getting nostalgiac. And I did.  All those old dreams have come slipping back into my thoughts and now, instead of oh well, I’m starting to think, why not? 

I asked my hubs about buying me a pair of ballet slippers as a gift.  He wanted to know why and I simply said, because I want them. Okay not simply, we had many discussions over a few weeks.  He thought I was kind of kidding. Or being silly.  So one day I posted on Facebook that I wanted him to buy them and my friends all chimed in that he should. I know, I could have bought them for myself.  But, something inside me wanted him to do it.  (I also bugged him for tap shoes, but, as it did when I was young, ballet won).  My friends responses were wonderful and that night we went online together and picked out a pair of soft shoes and a pair of pointe.  

Since I had posted about this on Facebook, it became the topic of discussion among some of my work friends. So naturally, the day they arrived, I sent pictures.  

What a day!  I had to put them on of course.  I immediately changed into tights (nude because I didn’t have the pale pink ones) and a pair of bike shorts, because I don’t have a leotard.  I didn’t break the box first and I laced them wrong but they were mine and they were on my feet.  And I was so happy.  I even stood up on pointe for a few seconds. 

The other day, as I was leaving work, my friend Christie asked me the question I’ve been asked a few times now.  Am I taking lessons? Nope. Then, why the shoes? 

Because they make me happy.  

If I can have a few moment of that childhood dream, why wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t any of us?  I think as we get older we sometimes forget it’s still okay to be a dreamer. Who can blame us?  There is just so much to be serious about in today’s world. There is so much to worry about, to stress out over and to get angry, offended or cry about.  So I’m trying to make an active effort to choose happy as often as I can.  I choose dreams and silliness and laughter. 

I choose to dance. 

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