Prima Ballerina

Prima Ballerina

She could dance, it seemed, before she could walk. No question about it. The child had talent.

Amy did a pirouette on stage. I clapped like a fool. My baby the ballerina! Who knew that someone with two left feet could give birth to this spirit now flying about the stage. She reminded me of a hummingbird, a tiny bit of fluff barely still long enough for her feet to meet the ground.

I remembered that night I talked to my husband. “I tell you, Jack, Amy has talent. She needs lessons beyond what Marie can provide. Don’t you think we should do that?”

“And how do you propose we pay for this? We’re not made of money, my dear. Once she finishes with Marie, she’s done. She’ll go to school like other children. You’ll have to give up this idea. Case closed.” He got up from his chair and went to the bedroom.

I fumed and fretted. No. This case was not closed. Amy would dance. She would continue with her study of ballet. I would find a way to get her to dance.

So I got Amy a scholarship to the best ballet school in America. She auditioned, was accepted, worked hard. Now I am sitting here in the theater watching our prima ballerina in her big debut. And here comes Jack. We clap the loudest and throw the biggest bouquet to the best dancer in the world.

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