The colossal, gray, steel door looked as if it would bend or burst from the pressure I knew existed.
Determination, fear, and broken promises bled through cracks and infected my.
skin producing seismographic chills. Pushing through, my stomach contracted as if my heart was.
sitting deep inside its walls. The nauseating stink of competition dominated the foyer; and at that.
moment, I thought I would be sick.
My legs were incompliant and heavy and moved like an unoiled Ferris wheel past buns.
and ponytails with ribbons, pink tights, and red cheeks toward the nearest unoccupied space on.
the wall. Sweat of tired bodies dripped to the floor and filled the air with a brawny, stale stinch.
Degas swirled in my brain in rectangles along with dancing primas who rose from the past in a.
torturing routine. I could feel the cold eight-count rhythm on my bottom from pounding toes on.
the wood floor. The echoing sound of the dancers mehodical routines defened me. Clouds of.
baby powder stung my eyes and filled my nose with a familiar sweet that slapped reality back. In.
that moment, my thoughts and images became clear.
I gathered my tools and began the attenuated installation of my Pointe shoes. The "Waltz.
of Flowers" resounded from the surround system far above my head. It was a lovely melody that.
calmed and relaxed me. I slid my toes through the conversion hole in my Capezio tights as if it.
were the last time I would ever do it. Elastic secure around both ankles, I removed a small plastic.
box containing my Ultra-Lite Pointe Comfort Shoe Pads. After lightly dusting their insides with.
baby powder, I slid them over my toes and pulled my tights back over my feet. My shoes were.
proud as I pulled them from the bag with both my first and middle name embroided upon it. As if.
the Prince himself was down on one knee right in front of me, my shoes, first right then left, slid.
onto each foot in a Cinderella fit. Silk ribbons wrapped my ankles in a strong, loving hug.
