The Ballerina and the Baby

I used to have an athlete’s intimacy with my own body. I could make it do almost anything I wanted: leap to the ceiling, stretch like taffy. I wasn’t going to join the corps of the New York City Ballet, but after almost thirty years of rolling around on wooden and marley floors, we’d come to an understanding. The point of being here (read: in years of dance classes that started at two and never really stopped) was to chase the singular high of excellence.