Dance Class

"Mine is the one with the curly hair!" "Mine is the one with the pony tail!" "Mine is the blond!" And I say, "Mine is the bald one!" to the other moms in Taylor's ballet class. I watch her prance around on her tippy toes on weeks that she is well enough to attend class, and it warms my heart to watch her shine. My eyes tear, and a lump gets caught in my throat every time I watch her clasp hands with the other girls, and squeeze them in a tight embrace to say goodbye. She is always the last to let go.  They head out to lunch, and we head home to isolation. Today the instructor asked each girl where they would go with their pretend butterfly wings while they did their morning stretches. Most of the little girls said to Disneyland, or a princess castle, or some other magical destination. It was Taylor's turn to share where she would go with her magical wings, anywhere in the whole wide world, and she whispered, "Here." and pointed to the dance room. My heart broke and swelled with pride at the same time. I love her grateful heart.