June 18

I grew up dancing, so in my world, "mid June" has always been synonymous with "dance recital." Costumes and colors and sequins and tights and shoes and music and rhythm and art and feeling and passion all poured out together to create something unique and entertaining; something that evokes a mix of tears and laughter and contemplation. As a general rule, I don't like the word "magic" because I don't believe it exists, but in my world, "dance" comes as close as anything to being "magic".

Now that Abby has formally aged out of the mother/daughter dance, I know that today may well have marked my final appearance on a stage. My mind was busy as I herded dancers to and fro throughout the day. I mused over how much fun it is to let it all go and perform with my girl and over what a gift it is to get to know other moms. As we sat in the balcony watching part of the second show, tears stung my eyes as I watched an especially talented boy perform and thought "that could've been Logan. He would be doing that. I know it." And then I paused and thought "I'm sure he is dancing. How I wish I could see him." I take the bitter with the sweet.

I'm not the best dancer ever, but the art has brought much happiness into my life. So tonight, even as I'm sad that our mother/daughter dance chapter is over, I'm thankful that my mom paved the way to tonight by signing me up for my very first dance class all those years ago.