It had been nearly nine years since I danced. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’d danced in my kitchen, at concerts, with friends after a class or two of wine, at weddings, I even tried latin dance classes and zumba. I’d never actually stopped dancing. But it had been nearly nine years since I took formal ballet dance classes. It’s funny how something that was such a part of your daily life is now a distant memory.
I started dance when I was 4 or 5, with my older sister, because I had to copy everything she did. She quit because she didn’t like the cosutme. And because I had do copy her, I also quit. Then, when I was in middle school, I decided, independently, that I wanted to try dance again. The problem was my age. Most of the girls who were 12 or 13 had been dancing since they were 3 or 4. So I had to be with much younger girls who were at my level. Then I found Miss Mary. At the time, she owned dance progressions in Derry, New Hampshire. She soon became my mentor and one of my favorite people. She offered to give me a few lessons so that I could learn the techniques and get caught up to the girls my age and I was able to join teen ballet. And I was in love. I loved the structure of ballet, the synchronicity of our pink tights and slippers moving at the same time. I loved the performances and feeling light and tall as I twirled around stage. I even loved the tough rehearsals, my legs shaking from balancing, the blisters and the few twisted ankles we wore like badges of honor.
I took other dance classes too, and I loved them all, even hip hop, though I wasn’t very good. I took tap and jazz with Miss Lindsay and participated in the annual dance festivals. Dance became my passion, my identitiy. I vividly remember getting my first pair of pointe shoes and I would tell everyone I was a dancer just incase they happened to be a talent scout and wanted to whisk me away to be the prima ballerina. But that was a dream, now long forgotten. I danced all though high school and I remember “finishing” my homeworks and driving my silver ’91 honda civic to the studio well before I had a class just to watch the other girls perform. I made friendships that I still hold onto. Dance was my love.
Then came life. I went to college locally so I was still able to visit the studio when I could. Then I started working, it must have been around then that I went to my last ballet class, but I don’t really remember. I worked, I traveled, I moved to Maine, changed jobs, changed relationships and before I knew it, I was an adult and not really a dancer. I still moved my body. I’d found yoga a few years prior and went to the gym, hiked, etc but dancing was left for weekend jam sessions and occassional weddings or concerts.
At the beginning of this summer, my sister, the same who quit dance all those years ago, told me I should go with her to a modern dance class. I avoided it for a few weeks because modern/ contemproraty wasn’t my favorite. But I decided it’d be fun to try and at least move my body in a dance studio. I loved it. It felt like I never left the dance studio. The instructor/ owner of Expanson Arts in Paris, ME, reminded me of Miss Mary with her accomodating nature. She taught us the right way to move our bodies to avoid injury and is inclusive of all levels. She even had the same poster in her studio that I had spent years and years spotting at Dance Progressions. After two classes, I asked her if she offered adult ballet. Of course she did. Why hadn’t I asked earlier?
So I finally went to a ballet class. It was familiar and comforting. My feet remembered the placements and my muscles were reminded that it had been quite some time since they moved like that. I was very sore the next few days but it was good, refreshing almost, to feel like that from dance.
It has been a few weeks now, and the summer dance class is almost over. I’ll start again in the fall and hopefully I won’t stop ever again, espeically not for nearly nine years. I may not be as flexible as when I was 15, but man it is fun. There are all levels in the class that I go to and I don’t feel out of place, even if I mess up on the barre work slightly. I feel free pirouetting across the studio and it is such an escape from my dreary desk job. I will continue to dance, at least weekely into the fall and later this year. I may not be a prima ballerina like I’d once hoped to be. And I may not be spending hours and hours in the studio, but I can confidently say that I am once again, a dancer.
Erin A Clark 