Dear Daughter,
It has been quite a fall. You started pointe, your life long dream and you danced Nutcracker. Both were wonderful and difficult, you endured so much, physically and emotionally.
You also lost your grandmother, my mother, on Halloween. She loved you so much, she would have been so happy to see you dance, to sing and to soar. But, alas, she was called home to God. You sang so beautifully at her funeral.
Your dad also lost his job this fall. That has been stressful for us and ultimately is the subject of my writing.
Dear child, we make so many sacrifices for you. There is no logical way that we pay for ballet. It simply doesn’t even make sense how or why, but we do, and we give up things along the way. Please understand then, why it broke my heart that you complained about your new very expensive pointe shoes that were your Christmas gift. I worked a month of Sundays, including Christmas morning, to pay for them. I wanted you to be happy, to be delighted, but instead, you were upset.
My work is not fun or glamorous. Many mornings, I cry while I scrub floors, because I would rather be with you and your brothers, teaching you, but I have given that up so you can dance. I know you may never realize it, but please just be a little appreciative. I know the girls you dance with are given life on a silver platter, and your life is on a chipped thrift store plate. We try, we really do, but our lot in life is to work and sacrifice. We named you after a saint of poverty, it is time to model her a bit.
Love,
Mom
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