Ode to a Bicycle

Last night, I received an invitation to attend a local performance to the ballet “Sleeping Beauty.” I have a sweet husband who, from time-to-time, will humor me with an evening at the ballet, but as the mother of all boys, I have never before experienced the electrical buzz that accompanies a throng of coifed and tutu’d ballerinas awaiting their moment in the spotlight. It was amazing to watch the youngest of dance students Grand Pas d'action across the stage. Two minutes of fame for a year (or more) of ballet study.

I’ve always wanted to be a dancer. Growing up, I had many opportunities to expand my ‘talents’. I’ve taken piano lessons, sewing lessons, gymnastics and art lessons. I tried my hand at learning the trumpet and guitar. Can’t forget the knitting lessons, swimming lessons and etiquette lessons. The closest thing I ever got to a dance lesson is a disco class I took in the 80’s. What can I say? Disco was king!

I might not have had formal lessons, but in my heart, I was a prima ballerina! Sometimes, on beautiful spring days I am reminded of my own moment in the spotlight. It was a lot like today. The promise of spring was in the air. After a long, hard winter, this was something to celebrate! What better way than with an impromptu dance recital? My bicycle sat in the backyard, neglected due to months of cold weather. I broke into fouettes and grand jetes, the likes of which had never been seen (nor should they be seen!). I joyfully twirled and swirled around that bicycle with such energy that when I finally lost my footing I became so entangled in that bicycle that I needed help to be extricated. Of course, this was after my mother finally stopped laughing from her perch at the kitchen window.

Gratefully, Jess, our benefactor of last evening, was much more magical as the Lady of Fire. Thanks for sharing your unbelievable talent!