Ballet

I love this picture, that my cousin Diane lovingly restored. It was taken at my ballet teacher's house to advertise her dance studio. That is 3 of my brothers, who were in tap dance at the time, wearing their costumes from a recital.

My dream at this age was to become a ballerina. I had my whole life planned in 4th grade: it included learning to speak French (we were taught how to write and say the ballet moves) and learning how to play the piano (they went together in my mind).

I started my lessons in an old building that had once been a theater. It had lovely tall windows that looked out on lilac bushes, we saw as we practiced at the barre. Wide wood plank floors and a wall of mirrors opposite the windows, that reflected the sunlight. Off in the corner, at an angle was an old piano, where our teacher's Mom sat and played. It was wonderful to have live accompaniment. She would play soft music as we imagined ourselves being leaves floating down or lively tunes as we practiced our twirling across the whole length of the room.

Some day I will paint that room as it still lives, wrapped in tissue paper, in my memories.