The Written Picture

I'm off on an adventure full of salt water and fresh air. Not the kind of adventure with mixed drinks holding paper umbrellas. More like fog and moors. Well. Not moors exactly. But close. There will be crashing waves and gulls crying. There will be ropey strands of seaweed. And there will be a saltiness to the air. I can almost taste it already...

Foreshadowing

Seven years ago, all the little dancers had already gone home. But the older girls were still on stage rehearsing, and my girl didn't want to go. She sat in the audience and watched.

Since then, she's gone from 2 hours a week of dance to 8 1/2. And this year, she's dancing the lead.

It sort of feels like we've come full-circle.

The purpose of the moon

Just a quick picture snapped of last weekend's supermoon. Yes, I snapped it with my phone. And yes, I could have used my big pretty camera and my big pretty lens, but where's the poetry in that?

Before & After - the ballerina edition

It's almost recital time and her pointe shoes that were brand new in September didn't make it to the end of the year:

But that's OK.

I love looking at the difference. I love the black marks and fabric on the toes worn down to nothing.

It's hard to ruin something so beautiful. It's hard to turn it gray, scuff it up and then toss it out because you're done.

But to me, the tears, rips, scuffs and black marks are just markings on a map. The evidence of a journey well - travelled. For me, it's just proof that you danced.

I'm sick.

He keeps walking around sighing. When I ask him what's wrong he says, "I'm Colorado-sick."

Me too, little buddy. Me too.