Having just returned home from Olivia's first dance recital (in case you missed the nightly news...it was legendary), I can't help but remember attending my own first dance recital as an adult, where my three year old niece Abigail was a star performer.
My brother was stationed in Yuma at the time, and I headed out west to visit the family and catch the Arizona installment of The Nutcracker Suite. As a three year old, Abigail player the all important fairy (sprite? firefly? I can't remember) and she was the most adorable little ballerina.
When Prince Charming came out, all the little girls started tripping over themselves in awe before pretending to fall asleep in little clusters around the stage. It was easy to spy Abigail who, despite demonstrating the illusion of sleep, couldn't quiet the little flutter of her all too excited feet.
It was a fabulous performance, which ended with my sister-in-law standing and cheering "Brava, Brava!" while her doting dad, my brother Paul, rewarded her with a bouquet of flowers at the end.
Until that moment, I had always envisioned myself as a mother of boys.
This is Day 129.
3 years ago