June 22

Sometimes, winks are so good and pure and salient and obvious that I feel like I don't even have the right to try to talk about them via something as plain and base as the written word. I had one that conveyed that kind of power tonight, and despite myself, I'm going to try to write it all out. Because I never, ever want to forget this one.

Abby and I were dancing our mother/daughter routine during the 7 o'clock show tonight -- the final one in a series of three today. I'm not gonna lie: between my tap class and this dance and watching little ones downstairs during the shows, my 35-year old body was tired with a capital T.

Sometime in the middle of the number, I glanced upward and saw a lone pink balloon slowly descending from the rafters high above.

Those of us in the center of the pack, so to speak, saw it, and I think most of us were amused. It floated downward until it reached a slightly above face-level cruising altitude. And then it engaged in a gentle, graceful bob-and-weave pattern, as if it were dancing right along with us. It was so close that it felt, at times, like it was dancing with me. And Abby was gleeful over its presence -- I could tell by her stifled but amused giggles.

And then the lights dimmed, and we scurried off-stage in the darkness, still twittering over the excitement of our unexpected guest star. I overheard someone remark That was SO weird! I've never seen anything like that before.... And then it hit me: it was, in whatever way possible, Logan. He showed up to dance with us. He showed up to dance with me one more time.

I know it's true. I also know it's strange, but when I get that feeling and I can barely hold back the tears, I just... know. The funny thing is, it's not surprising to me that Logan would show up on stage during a dance recital. He loved dance. I know he would've been in today's shows if he were still here physically.

But he did what he could. And I've never been more thankful for a little pink balloon.