Dancing Through The Darkness

I always knew that when I grew up, I wanted to be a Prima ballerina.

According to my mother the moment I learned to walk was the moment I learned to dance. It wasn’t long after that, that I was performing pirouettes and arabesques throughout our living room.

I thought back on the memories of my mom smiling, while wringing her hands nervously, as I tried performing the risky moves.

“Ariel, “ she’d say, “it’s a little too early for those positions.”

I’d laugh at her and shake my red head before trying again and again until I nailed it perfectly. She would smile and try a couple of poses with me reminding me where I got my natural talent from.

I took a deep breath trying not to allow my mind to enter the dark place that liked to surge forward when I thought of the person my mother used to be. When she was happy and dancing. When the only thing capable enough to interfere with her dancing was me.

I pushed my mind to go further back in time to a place when everything was moving harmoniously. Mom was Prima over at the New York City Ballet and I was a year away from graduation. I smiled at the memories of watching her glide across the stage with grace and style that seemed to flow naturally for her. No matter what she performed she always moved her audience to tears.