a dancer's story

When I was Isabela's age, I had just started ballet. My parents took me to my first class kicking and screaming, or so I was told. I took that one class, and fell in love. A ballerina was what I wanted to be...so I danced the next eight years away.



And just like many of the ballets you may see on stage, this story ends tragically. The end of summer, my sixteenth year, I decided to quit. I wrote home from Seattle at the Pacific Northwest Ballet and told my parents, breaking my mom's heart and ending all those deposits my dad had made to the Richmond Ballet's bank account. I imagine they probably felt both sadness and relief. I had written off college, but now that I was quitting, a higher education would be back on the table.


They briefly tried to talk me out of it. But my mind was made up.


And really it was never mentioned again.


To this day, I have never taken another ballet class. I find that unbelievable...and one day, I may change that.


But here is Isabela's story.
She's spent the last two weeks dancing with the Latin Ballet of Virginia.


And it ended with an amazing performance last Friday...a make believe story with dolphins and manta rays and pirates.


The great thing about this dance school is how relaxing and friendly, even child-friendly, their performances are. Diego was able to sit through this hour long show on my lap...and he sat with interest, watching intently for most of the show. The beat of the music, the colorful costumes, and the gusts of wind from the dancers rushing by our chairs kept him very entertained.


Isabela took her bow and we were so proud of her. But I asked her on the way home if she'd like to take a dance class in September....and she said no. It's not her passion, and I'm fine with that. She likes to try different things, and sometimes I wish that I had done that growing up, too.


Follow your heart, Isabela, and we'll be right there with you.