A Night in Paris {Krysta's Ballet Recital}

I'm shaking my head and hanging it low in shame. Forgive me, this post has been stuck in my "draft" folder. I wrote it while on the plane to Hawaii, but never clicked published. Through all of the excitement, it remained forgotten until today. So, without further ado, here is Krysta's dance recital from June. *red cheeks*

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It’s quiet. The stage is set. Lights of pink, blue, and green descend from overhead to illuminate the stage. Violins strum as the orchestra joins in over the sound system, in a slow sweet opening. As the music increases, thirty little ballerinas dressed in white, prance under the spotlight in sync with one another, as the audience resounds in “awe”. The performance begins, and my girl instinctively moves in graceful spins and pointed toes.

I felt them coming…the tears. I pushed them back and held them off for as long as I could, but as soon as I laid my eyes on Krysta, I waved my white flag and surrendered. I became so overwhelmed with the emotion of seeing my little girl on stage that my eyes swelled, breaking the dam as tears began to roll uncontrollably down my cheeks. Yes, we’ve done many recitals in the past, but the lump-in-the-throat and heart swelling never goes away. It’s usually around this time –the waterworks part- that I look over at Ron to see his eyes glistening as he watches his baby pirouette, but there was just a stranger sitting beside me. This was the first recital that Ron wasn’t able to attend. I was the only one that came to see her performance, but that’s all she needed. She knew daddy was thinking of her and supported her big day from thousands of miles away. 

The tempo changed paced as the group of bouncing bopping girls did high kicks and pom-pom shakes across stage. This was her first year doing Pom, and while she loved doing her number on stage, she decided that Pom wasn’t her thing…she’d rather arabesque in yards to tulle instead of booty shake in sequins. Her exact words were, “ballet is prettier”.

But she did it, and she did it well.  I’m so proud of her.

“To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautifully, more powerful. This is power, it is glory on earth, and it is yours for the taking.” –Agnes De Mille

Love,
EM

She danced with heart.

I just sorted through over 500 photos from Krysta’s dance recital. What?

“Click, click, click, click, click, click, pause, click, click, click, click, click, click.” Obviously I didn’t want to miss one second of her performances. After rummaging through the photos, I’ve concluded that I really need to get a better grip on which settings work best for dark awkward lighting with a high speed moving subject that bounces from Stage Left to Stage Right. Despite the motion blur, I managed to capture her, in her moment, doing her thing, and that is what I want to remember.

All year the girls worked very hard learning the proper ballet positions and the steps to the their routines, and tonight was their big night to shine --to show their parents, friends, and loved ones, just how hard they’ve worked.
And their hard work paid off indeed. They all danced like dainty little swans, full of grace and beauty.

This was Krysta’s last dance recital with the company, Center Stage, so watching her perform on the stage at UAA with the same girls she’s been dancing with for years was a lump-in-the-throat reality check that we really are relocating.

There are a lot of emotions that seems to come out when my little one straps on a tiny pair of ballet slippers and a pink sparkly costume that ultimately results in quadrupling the size of my heart. I did very well holding back tears as she pranced lightly across the stage, forming perfect little arabesques’ and pirouettes’.

At the end of the ballet number, the girls tippy-toed through the side curtain, and with a smile as big as the sea, Krysta said, “Mom we messed up just a little bit, but that’s okay because they still liked us! Do you hear them clapping?!” And the crowd wasn’t just clapping, they were downright cheering. My little ballerina pushed through the minor mishaps and continued on like a pro. I was so proud.

Decked out in sequins and a little bling, for their tap number the girls danced to Footloose --"loose, footloose kick off your Sunday shoes." And man did they ever cut loose. They had so much fun shaking what their mama’s gave em’ and swaying their hips from side to side. Some faster than the beat, others slower, but nonetheless they were heel-tapping like it was nobody’s business.

The girls quickly changed out of their tap skirt and into jazz pants to break it down to Cotton-Eyed Joe. I was bursting at the seams with pure happiness as I watched my shy girl break out of her comfort zone and enthusiastically skip from across the stage, be-booping from the left to the right, from front to back, then back around to the center. She was confident and full of smiles.

I was beaming. And the chick beside me was beaming. I turned around and everyone in the audience had the smile of a crazy-kid-in-the-candy-store planted on their faces. It was a great night. Krysta gave it her best and had a blast doing it. She loves dancing and I love watching her do what she loves. But above all, I’m proud that she’s proud of herself.

She danced with heart.

her dance teachers, Mrs. Karen and Mrs. Chelsey

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Happy Mid-Week!
Em