Jeanne’s British accent counting the beats as my arms float up, up, up, legs moving through the air, tilting head, remember, deep expression.
“Peanut, send a message from your face to match your movement, go on!”.
Yes, ballet is a part of who I am.

Thanks Mum, for paying for every ballet lesson of my life, buying new ballet slippers as my feet grew, taxi fares so I could get to ballet when you had to work nights, sitting, waiting and watching me all the nights you weren’t working, taking me to the cone and shake shop after ballet for ice cream (!!!) and coming to every recital…
It’s not a duty you owed to me. It’s a gift representative of the myriad of things that you sacrificed for me. Wow. I’m not sure that I’m worthy Mum (…come to think of it, I hope God doesn’t strike me with lightning). Love, love, love you Mum.