June/July/August 2009

Dear uninvited guest around whom my dad once mentioned my wedding,

Thank you for the pricey gift that, though thoughtful, we returned for new curtains.  I know you’re an acquaintance of my parents, but I’m quite sure that I’ve never met you, so finding filler to make this note longer is quite difficult.  We use the gift we swapped for the gift you bought us every day, and we love them.  It’s pretty much just like we’re using your gift daily.

Sincerely,
The Staff of Professional Thank You Note Writers
(ie. Mrs. Newlywed)

It tics and echoes
It rises, makes the bed, showers, goes to work
It calls, writes, texts,
It drinks black coffee and beer
It loves lasagna and cream cheese brownies
It sings along to “The Big Five” 90’s rock
It shakes its head to the beat of rap
It has a name and drives a car
It makes me cry
It makes me cry “pause!” in a giggling match
It brushes my hair
It wraps around me
It tics and echoes
And breathes,
“I love you”

“Alright, my little ballerinas, arms en haut!”

10 leather soles press their share of 4-year-old weight into the wooden floor.  Each dancer holds her arms en haut–arms up and rounded, some more than technique allows. Then, as soon as those 5 sets of feet reach their favorite color dots on the floor, little bottoms jump down to replace their feet.  A quick prayer time begins class.  I pray, “Dear Jesus, thank you for the cold weather outside and the leaves falling.  We pray that you would keep us warm so we can dance for you.  I thank you so much for Megan and Emily and Kaitlyn and Abi and Sophia, Jesus.  I know you love them very much. Amen.”

In my head, I add, “please let Emily talk, let Abi not cry, let Sophia skip well, let Megan listen, let Kaitlyn get 3rd position, and let me find gas on the way home.”

The pink leotards sit quietly, feet pressed together, knees out while I start the music. Lisa Harris’ rendition of “I Dreamed a Dream” floats through the classroom, while my girls describe their butterflies to me.  Our knees beat the air–up and down–as we list all the colors and stickers that decorate our leg-butterflies.  Everyone’s butterfly is pink.  Sophia’s has sparkles.  Kaitlyn’s has glitter.  Megan’s has hearts.  Abi’s has purple along with the pink, and Emily’s has sparkles, glitter, hearts, Christmas trees, flowers, a rainbow, and bows.  One prayer answered, maybe a little too well.

We tell our butterflies, “hello.”  The butterflies love the cold weather and at least our bug creations are ready for ballet class today.  Now, no one can have butterflies without also planting a garden.  So we stretch our hamstrings while planting a lovely garden of…

This is the most controversial part of class.  Will we plant carrots and apples or roses and daisies?  Pale pink tights stretch toward the mirror, peachy-leather toes and pink nails point at me.  We will dig between our ankles and make a hole, plant a pretend seed, let our fingers sprinkle rain as they reach from heaven to our pretend dirt ankles.  The wind will blow as our backs twist from side to side.  Then, we’ll find our arms in that perfect en haut position as the sun shines so our plants will grow.  But first, we have the most important question of class.  Butterfly colors are important, for sure, but we always know that our butterflies will be some variation of pink.  This decision requires team-work and careful thought.  For this moment, my empty gas tank, my sister’s new boyfriend, my mad-dash to get home in time for trivia night, those don’t matter.  For now, the only decision that has to be made isn’t even mine to make.  For now I just offer, “what shall we grow today?”