Dance Through Life.

A Story by AnnaEDWrites

About a young girl who lived in Italy and moved to the States. She loves ballet.

Dance Through Life.

I moved from Italy to the States when I was seven years old. You can say that I’m not your typical middle school student. When I was seven I knew very little English. Even though I was studying the language and the arts of ballet dance.

So Mom made the decision to move to America. Mainly she was a journalist and lost her job. That’s when Mom had an interview with the channel eight news in Roanoke, Virginia. Since we moved, my ballet has improved since then.

I’m defiantly on the competitive side when it comes to dance competitions, contests, and things like that. But there was one dance recital that was nerve wracking yet most memorable.

In fact the whole family was going to the dance recital with me. I couldn’t wait to dance in front of them like I’ve done a million times before. But now it’s on a real stage at Harrisville Dance Academy in Harrisville Maryland.

We’re in the car-almost to our destination. Maybe just two hours away. I lost track of time. Somewhere around that time frame at least. It’s just been a long time in the car. And I know I”m forgetting something. But I can’t quite place my thoughts on what I’d forgotten.

But it’s something important.

I’m doing the routine in my head for the millionth time. Mom puts on the soundtrack to my dance, “Dance Through Life.” It’s by Jill Grace. The song, “Dance Through Life” means a lot to my family.

You see every night we would play it and just dance. We’d dance before bed time, in the afternoon, and in the morning. To get us waken up for the day. Dance through sadness. Dance with joy. The softness of the lyrics touches my heart.

I rummage through my bag. I’ve had it since I was little. I may have outgrown the bag since it was too small. But I can care less about it. I still carry it. The bag has my initial “A” on the front. It’s also pink. In which pink is my favorite color. As I search the bag, I can’t find my ballet slippers. Where could they be? I can’t find them anywhere. I start to panic.

“Um, Mom,” I begin. “I forgot something important.”

“What?” Mom asks.

“My ballet shoes,” I reply.

“We can’t go back now,” Mom finally says. How could I forget the shoes? It’s the most important thing to have when it comes to ballet of course. “I’ll come up with a plan.” We finally made it to Harrisville.

It’s a busy city. Mainly I’m a country girl at heart. When I’m not listening to ballet music, I’m turning up the volume to country.

I go through my dance routine again. Yes I’ve been practicing for months. I just hope I don’t fall or trip. To make a fool out of myself like I do everyday. That would be horrifying. And that’s my biggest fear. Of course it’s a part of stage fright.

Mom, Lucas, and I cross a busy street. We walk towards the crowded Harrisville Academy of Dance. The thing was about this place…that I really like…it was peaceful. They play soothing ballet music in the lobby. That way it could calm the dancers and help the dancers concentrate. And have a little peace while dancing. To set that mood per say.

Mom finds the sign in table at the front of the room. Lucas and I follow her. I sign my name on the form. I’m ready to go now. My heart skips a beat. It’s almost time before my big recital. That I’ve been waiting for most of my life.

I twist my black curly hair into a bun to prepare. I still don’t have my shoes yet. My recital begins in thirty minutes. Though now Mom has a plan.

“You will buy my shoes?” I ask her. Just to make sure I heard right.

“It’s the only thing we can do. And you deserve new shoes,” Mom responds and smiles. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“Awe, thanks Mom,” I reply and hug her. We go up to the counter to pay.

“Have a nice day,” the lady said.

“Thank you,” Mom and I respond. We leave the store and find a bench near the stage’s entrance. I peak inside the stage’s room. The stage is huge. I get nervous all over again. What if I forget a specific leap or jump? The shoes…

The shoes fit perfectly on my feet. And they are mine. I love them and I haven’t dance in them yet.

But now it’s show time. The nervous butterflies go away.

The lights beam on me. I dance gracefully to the strong and powerful lyrics. I don’t fall or trip. Everyone gasps when I do my angelic leap across the stage. My whole dance routine was coming together. So beautifully and angelically. Magnificent.

My song choice brought the audience to tears. At the end I get a standing applaud. I bow and the curtain falls. All the dancers come on stage then and we bow as the audience clasps. I feel so alive. This is what I love.

Dance.

Through my vision of dancing like this-melts my heart. Through the meaning of Jill Grace’s song…catches the spirit of when I dance.

Dance through pain.

Dance through sadness.

Dance through life.