Missing the Pointe

My life is fleeting before me, but I pause this morning to capture the beauty and grace before my very eyes, frame by frame, but not mechanical like a movie projector. Flowing.

I watch my 13 year-old daughter wrap the black ribbons around her ankles. Her feet positioned just so as she ties each knot, accepting the worn pointe shoes molding to her gentle feet. Delicate.

I’m fighting back tears, because I cannot count the days—no, the weeks—since I noticed her in this way. Her beauty. Her passion. She is a work of art.

The way she inches her pointed toes, in step, across the floor. What balance she maintains for such a young girl, not quite a young woman. No, she is a young woman. I haven’t accepted this yet. Aching.

But her spins beckon me. I follow, returning to the stage where only our memories can dance. She in my arms, her toddler feet dangling as we twirl across the living room floor. Laughter.

5 thoughts on “Missing the Pointe

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s