The Move

Since the age of six, I knew that I was to be a dancer. The beauty of the long, graceful bodies, radiate throughout the space, as I feel my heart clench with fulfillment. I am fascinated by the lingering, yet precise movements, which the dancers seem to perform with such ease. They stretch their legs as if reaching for the heavens; grind their Pointe shoes into the floor as if to conquer hell. Perfection is …

…at the mirror. Toes pointed to their fullest extent, as if being pulled by some invisible string. At that one single moment, I’m suspended in mid-air, until I start to fall toward the ground. I make a poised landing, stepping through, landing quietly, as if I’m only a whisper. I step out, and face the mirror, out of breathe, but fully content as the thought of what just happened passes through my mind.