Get The Point?
“Oh daddy, throw those old smelly, worn out things away.”
Holding the tattered shoes that once were shiny and pink, now torn and scuffed to the point of being tread bare, I place them back into the box in which they arrived.
Her first pair looked like doll shoes. She was just a doll. Hardly in school but she wanted to be a ballerina. Perched on the edge of the theater seat watching for the first time what would become an endless stream of dancing toy soldiers and sugar plum fairies, a determination was being forged; A determination that would be the vehicle to carry beyond the colored stage lights and grease paint.
Blisters on top of blisters compounded with swollen and aching joints became the norm. Practices when most of the other kids were home or doing other recreational activities was the daily routine. Hundreds of hours preparing paid its dividend when the house lights dimmed and the stage lights glared. Smiling through pain was masked in the twirly whirl of satin and lace. Snow scenes to sword fighting mice. What a spectacle; a spectacle not so grand as to be able to hide the one small face that was continually sought by gleaming parents.
Hardwood floored dance studios have been replace with wood paneled walls and black robes as the halls of determination. Still just as intense and crisp but a different arena. But now, as the show starts to begin, the program announcer invitation has changed from “all be seated” to “all rise”.
Throw those old smelly things away?...Don’t even touch ‘em.
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7 comments:
Every year, one of the new girls would ask, “When do we get toe shoes?” and every year the answer was the same, “When you’re in the third grade.” Until then we were required to balance on the balls of our feet. “Oh! You’ll hurt yourselves!” the teacher would exclaim when she caught us trying to get up on the tips of our toes. “Stop it! You’ll break your toes!” What an alarmist, I would have thought if I’d had the word in my 6 year-old vocabulary. But I waited, with everyone else, with my toes, too small for toe shoes, bent properly inside the soft pink leather of my slippers. We knew, even if the teacher didn’t, that toe shoes were necessary for truly graceful ballet. Without them, it was just make believe.
Awesome job Bel :) Well done. I had a feeling that you would like this prompt. I look forward to reading your writing here too! Thanks.
Thought this inspires? Balance.
Get The Point?
“Oh daddy, throw those old smelly, worn out things away.”
Holding the tattered shoes that once were shiny and pink, now torn and scuffed to the point of being tread bare, I place them back into the box in which they arrived.
Her first pair looked like doll shoes. She was just a doll. Hardly in school but she wanted to be a ballerina. Perched on the edge of the theater seat watching for the first time what would become an endless stream of dancing toy soldiers and sugar plum fairies, a determination was being forged; A determination that would be the vehicle to carry beyond the colored stage lights and grease paint.
Blisters on top of blisters compounded with swollen and aching joints became the norm. Practices when most of the other kids were home or doing other recreational activities was the daily routine. Hundreds of hours preparing paid its dividend when the house lights dimmed and the stage lights glared. Smiling through pain was masked in the twirly whirl of satin and lace. Snow scenes to sword fighting mice. What a spectacle; a spectacle not so grand as to be able to hide the one small face that was continually sought by gleaming parents.
Hardwood floored dance studios have been replace with wood paneled walls and black robes as the halls of determination. Still just as intense and crisp but a different arena. But now, as the show starts to begin, the program announcer invitation has changed from “all be seated” to “all rise”.
Throw those old smelly things away?...Don’t even touch ‘em.
Strong and true she holds position
She's worked and waited long and hard
Years of struggle and pain for this
Today she is the leading girl
She's worked and waited long and hard
Lovely in faerie queen's green
Today she is the leading girl
Opposite her prince, set to dance
Lovely in faerie queen's green
Music starts she runs to her place
Opposite her prince, set to dance
The cue -- she gracefully glides out
Music starts she runs to her place
Her heart sings as she dances out.
The cue -- she gracefully glides out,
Matching the king leap for twirl.
After years of struggle and pain
Strong and true she holds position
Matching the king leap for twirl
Her heart sings as she dances on.
She wondered if the bus would ever come. Practice was over an hour ago. Even though it was raining and miserable at the bus stop, she couldn't help but smile thinking of how her dance teacher applauded that perfect pirouette. Marie now started to believe that her dream of a life of dance was a possibility. The world of dance had to be her world. Anger and disillusionment poisoned her home life and didn't give her anywhere to breathe. Each ballet step lifted her out of that stress and brought her to a place where her spirit burst with joy. Marie's grandmother knew that dance was the answer for this young lady. With whatever influence she had on her son, she made sure that Marie had the chance to dance. As the bus pulled up, Marie planned how she would dedicate her first solo to her beloved grandmother. The woman who gave her a future.
Oh, MYYYY! My current WIP has two scenes where the little girl takes ballet lessons to gain poise, confidence.
The little girl shrank into the wall at the mirrored studio. Though graceful girls arched their arms and bowed their legs like graceful birds, all she saw in the sheets of glass was her lumpy body and pasty face. She darted a glance at her mother, who screeched on and on with Miss Lila. Would she, could she be one of them? It would take a miracle bigger than the one that got them in the country club.
Fun! Patti
www.pattilacy.com/blog
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