They enter the dance studio in an energetic buzz—tiny humans in pink leotards with bulging little bellies. They run to the ballet barre and hang on it even though I’ve told them a hundred times not to. They smell like gummi bears and sweaty feet. Little handprints on the big mirrors they are not supposed to touch are clues they’ve been here. One by one, across the floor, they skip and leap like baby lambs on a warm spring day. Giggling and smiling and coming out of their shells. They are tiny dancers moving through space and into my heart.
Patti Jo Amerein is a new writer living in an old body. Once a Las Vegas showgirl, she now bares only her soul. Instagram: @pj_amerein