Spanish Dancer

I have blogged about my son before. His efforts out on the 'pitch'. I am certainly proud of him and all his hard work at achieving his dream. Today, though, I learned something about my daughter that brings me to tears.

Emma is a dancer. It is hard to comprehend that sentence if you don't know a dancer. She is fourteen. She has been dancing since four. This year her schedule is six days a week. She has Friday night off, but Monday through Thursday she dances, and Saturday and Sunday 11 am to 6pm. Emma is a dancer.

Last March something very terrible happened to her calf muscle. It locked up. Every time she went on point, a shooting pain radiated up her leg. She struggled to complete her final performance last year, and that was the last she could go up on point. Emma is a dancer, and the tears that followed were many.

She started with a physical therapist last year. Several nights a week she would go and have the knots in her calf rolled out. I'm not sure if I even know how painful that was. Knots the size of a golf ball were almost mercilessly rolled out of her calves, over and over. Every day she would see, could she go up on point today? No. Every day I told her, it's OK love, let your body heal. Listen to your body, it's telling you to slow down, to heal. Every day she worked at it, and several times a week worked with her sports therapist. Emma is a dancer.

Slowly, and with dedication and focus she began to heal. Each day as she came home I would ask her, how did you feel today? Have you gone on point? Just today I learned she was selected for 'Spanish Dancer' in the American Repertory Ballet's Nutcracker at the McCarter Theater in Princeton. This dance is one of the most beautiful I know. I am so proud of my Emma. Did I mention she's a dancer?