|My 40+ year old ballet slippers hang in the foyer.|
Not all the moments spent in class were joyful. There were those awkward painful years when the baby fat was holding on for dear life and I was well into my teens. Or those moments spent standing in the stage wings waiting to perform at the annual recital and you were sure the ribbon you had just sewn onto your ballet slippers was about to break...again. But, for the most part, the 13 years spent in those slippers were loved and cherished.
All those afternoons when Miss Arlene kept nagging us to stand up straight, put your shoulders back and smile did not go to waste; and the memorizing of routines and the endless practice was not for naught. All of that did make a difference; it did have an effect. I know all the dancers out there with 'dancer's feet' will agree with me.
And now that the ballet days are over, maybe I will take those piano lessons I so longed for as a child.