Today was your last dance class of the season. It was more than that I’m afraid, it was the last “slow dance” you and I will have together at ballet.
You see at the end of each class Miss Connie, your teacher, allows each of the Mama’s to pick up our child and dance slowly in a “quick, quick, slow” pattern. I hold you in my arms and whisper in your ear how proud I am of you and how much I love you. Today I held you extra close, remembering all of the blog post I’ve read about the “last times.”
Can you remember the last time they called the remote, mote? Can you recall the last time she wore a diaper or crawled on the floor?And so on and so forth. I was here for so many of your first and certainly for all of your last- and the moments have passed and with you very often your first time, is your last time; you’re the independent type.
Today we danced to I WON’T GIVE UP by Jason Mraz. It was this perfect and beautiful moment and you leaned into me and said “I love you Mama.”
I nearly cried.
Your ballet classes cost a lot of money, and some days I’m not sure if you love it or I just love watching you. Your little so it doesn’t matter right now, but what good is having a girl if you don’t get to dress her in leotards and tights and send her into a class where she twirls and spins? I’ll tell you kid, you dance to your own drummer. Perhaps when women wish for girls what they should ask for is a mirror instead. I tell you go right, you go left. I tell you I love your outfit, you change. I tell you listen to Miss Connie, pay attention, take a break, are you okay? You stare at me with giant brown eyes, more your fathers than my own and say, “Don’t worry about me.” How hard it is to explain that you and Judeboy are all I will ever worry about. How hard it is to live in the “last moment” because of course your last- is my last.
I recall the song ending, Miss Connie saying “are you ready to say goodbye to your classmates?” I shook my head no, you shook your head yes- and so we dipped in the circle and 8 collective little voice said “Bye. Goodbye!”
I let you slide down the front of my stomach. Hips. Thighs. Floor. Gone.
Last dance. Best dance.
If you’re older, and reading this, and we haven’t slow danced in a while do me a favor. Play me a song, hold my hand, tell me you love me- or better yet, do the same with your own little girl. Capture every first with your camera and every last with your mind and then…let go.
I love you Sunshine.
You who are bigger than the sun and brighter than all the stars.