Ballerina-tard

The experience was filled with moments when the sight of her caught my breath.  When I held back sweet tears as I watched her
becoming
before my eyes.    

Signed up for ballet camp, days before she begged to try on the hand-me-down "ballerina-tard".   It was pink with a skirt that twirled and slippers made only to dance in.  The twirling went on for days. 

 
And then I saw her in a room filled with preschoolers
becoming little girls.  All in pink. 
Our girl, conquering fears and stretching herself.

Giddy on performance day, she carried in her princess costume, just a bit older, a bit more confident.  From over her shoulder she let me know that she "couldn't talk to me" during their dance later that afternoon.
She was a ballerina with a dance to do. 

We arrived and watched her, a princess among princesses,
relishing all the imagined. 

Later my momma's heart broke just a bit when all eyes were on her and she froze...searching the room for rescue. 
I didn't stand and she didn't cry. 
The sweetest of instructors took her by the hand and danced with her. 

And so with this experience behind us,
fears have been conquered, crafts made, new ground taken,
and sweet memories made.