Ten Years. A Decade. Where did the time go? It hardly seems possible. So without further adieu the traditional tenth birthday lettter.
My dearest Dancer Girl,
When you were a baby I had a habit of saying I had waited my entire life to have you. Sure, we had your brother already, but no little girl I know of dreams of having sons (as much as they love them when they get them.) Like all other little girls, I had played house with "daughters". And long before we could hold you in our arms you made certain we knew that you were -- not only a girl, but a dancer. Somewhere in the hidden corners of the basement I have a VHS recording of you, inside my belly with your arms outstretched above your head as you spun circles inside me. The ultrasound technician was not impressed, it made it hard to see your spine and kidneys. But your Dad and I were. I called you a "belly-rina". Your dad laughed. Little did either of us know.
And then just a few short months later, here you were. The smallest baby I had ever held. But even then, we should have realized. You were a tiny, yet powerful ball of quiet determination that never gave in.
From your rocky start, to the toddler who let no "adjusted age" limit your possibilities, who followed her brother around to make sure he put the matching color lid back on the right markers, who potty trained herself in a single day when she decided she was going to have the princess panties.
To the preschooler who learned to write her first and last name BEFORE the first day of three year old school, because you decided you could. The preschooler who started school in the prettiest dress your mom could find, with cowboy boots, and a pink beret and sunglasses, because it's what YOU wanted to wear. (I had long since learned that the battle over what you wore was rarely worth my futile efforts.)
To the kindergarten kid who learned to read,
to the beautiful dancer blossoming in front of my very eyes.
The best word to describe you has always been driven, with close seconds coming for determined, and resolute. You are a girl who knows what she wants, and doesn't stop until she gets it. You always have been.
In your world, there is greatness and there is failure, with very little room between. It's a high standard that scares your mom, who chooses to live somewhere in the middle where there are words like "comfortable", "acceptable", and "okay". But I also know that it is that high standard that drives your pursuit of perfection, and your expectation of excellence.
Likely because of that you have the work ethic of several grown adults combined. Whether its for completeing your school work, finishing a craft project exactly as you envisioned, or making sure that that ballet turn not only looks right, but feels. just so.
You are a loving sister, and a helpful daughter. You may not be the goofball that your brothers are, but you're creative, and engaging, and the perpetual ring leader of large organized games, stuffed animal adventures, and theatrical productions.
You are not always the most patient person I ever met ( and I know where that came from.) You don't limit your high standards to yourself, you expect the best from all of us.
You're an avid reader. But you turn your nose up at the historical tales of friendship and loyalty that I devoured at your age. You prefer adventures, and tales of fantastic bravery, or thought provoking mysteries, and it makes sense. You long for adventures of your own.
You dream of doing things, I could barely imagine. You are obsessed with Paris, and Rome, and the New York City Ballet. You talk of bright lights, and productions, and yes you even fantasize about long days of rehearsals. Even at your age you know that shows come with work. You glory in it.
And while others question how you can dance SO much and still love it, or not be burnt out, I know the truth. I know how often you beg to go to dance MORE often, and then make do with a barre in the basement, and the living room floor. I know the limits we have to set to save not your sanity, but mine.
And while dance is a big part of your life, it doesn't define you. You are a girl with character, a girl with spunk.
A loyal friend, a generous helper, a girl who lives her life with passion and steadfast commitment.
A girl who loves freely, and has more confidence in her baby toe, then her mother has in her entire body.
A girl with limitless dreams.
A rock star that doesn't know the meaning of "nervous" or "intimidated".
A tiny, yet powerful ball of quiet determination that never gives in.
One that makes her mother proud every single day.
Happy Birthday Dancer Girl.
