Fleeting and Forever

I always have my favorite moments from ballet recital week. The ballet buns and makeup and costume changes, watching and waiting from the dark auditorium, rehearsing under the warm stage lights, all of it is uniquely exciting. The performance nights, where it all comes together, rush by in a whirl of tutus and ribbons, then it's all over.

I watched Golda and Ruby dance their gorgeous modern dance (Seagulls) and felt for a moment like the whole thing would be over in such a short time. A rush of tutus and ribbons, and they'll be too old for dance, and gone. I was struck as I watched them glide and soar, how quickly they have come from being small dancers like Araceli to gaining maturity and ability. All too soon Ari will be in their shoes, Golda and Ruby will be those big girls in the advanced classes and Xanthe will step in to take their place in the groups of tiny dancers who skip happily around the stage showing off their pretty costumes and their enthusiasm.

The third week in June contains a gift to me: four days every year when time stands still and I am here, now, with all the dreams I dreamt when I imagined my future. I get to see my students demonstrate everything they have learned. I get to see my choreography come to life. I get to do the hair and fix the costumes and listen from the drivers' seat in the car as the girls talk about their experiences. They are not thinking about how quickly it will all rush by. They are just living their lives. Most of all, I get the rare opportunity to watch from backstage as my children lift their faces to the fleeting light of the stage. That image of beauty lasts forever, even if childhood doesn't.

Thank you, Clytie Adams, for the third week in June.