Having taken Marley to take her dance photos today, I've got ballet on my mind. I am thrilled that two of the granddaughters have the opportunity to learn dance. Both are interested and have had a couple of years' training at local dance companies. It's something I'd have loved to do as a child, but we simply could not afford such a luxury. So I tried to teach myself ballet by reading a library book and practicing on the front porch, a window sill for a barre.
I was pretty good for a seven-year with no formal training. I eventually became light enough on my feet that my parents quit fussing about the jumping around while they napped.
Eventually, my interests and reading turned to learning other skills: a girl can learn only so much from reading the one library book available, and a two week check-out time limits that.
Nevertheless, I still love ballet, my lost opportunity. And the few times that I've had the chance to go to the ballet (whether local recital or world-renown production), I've watched enraptured by the beauty and grace of the dancers, the costumes, the stories they tell.
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