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| | |  THE DAY THE DREAM BEGAN In the picture I am standing proudly in front of my dance studio. The snow, soiled by the footprints of the many children who had passed through, was slowly melting away. Revealing the brown, dead grass that crunched under my feet. My tiny figure was warm beneath that bright red coat, and seemed smaller than usual as I stood beside the sign. To my young eyes that sign was an enormous and somewhat majestic figure. The thick, black lettering spelt out “The Cumbrae School of Dancing”. The words rang in my ears. That name held my fate. In awe of the whole experience I stood there excitedly, posing for my father’s camera. He had snapped this one at the wrong moment. I hadn’t been ready. Trust him to miss the excitement in my eyes, the glow of my smiling face, and the bounce in my step. The early morning air, cool and crisp, had momentarily blurred my vision, causing me to squint. I tried desperately to focus on the camera, my eyes searching hopefully for my father’s figure. This picture had to be perfect! If I was ever going to be famous I would surely need a picture of myself at my first dance class. The camera snapped. The flash caught my eye. Behind me I could hear the faint melody of a piano playing inside where the older girls would be dancing. I realized then what I know now to be true: Dancing would
be a part of my life forever. | | | |
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