Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Seven: The Dance Recital
The announcement came home in Clara's backpack on a Monday afternoon.
Dear Parents,
The kindergarten class will be performing its annual dance recital on Friday, June 7th, at 7:00 PM in the school auditorium. Each child will perform a dance they have learned in class. Costumes will be provided.
Lina read the letter three times.
A dance recital. Clara was going to be in a dance recital.
She thought about Lily's dance recitals, so many years ago. The twirling. The spinning. The joy.
Clara had the same joy.
---
Clara was thrilled.
"I'm going to be a butterfly!" she shouted, running around the living room.
Lina smiled. "A butterfly?"
"A butterfly. I have wings and everything."
Lina pulled her granddaughter into her arms.
"I can't wait to see you," she said.
---
The weeks leading up to the recital were chaos.
Clara practiced her dance constantly, twirling through the living room, humming the music under her breath. She had wings and a wand and a crown of flowers.
Grace helped her practice. Stella cheered her on. Samuel clapped his hands.
Lina watched and felt her heart swell.
---
The night of the recital arrived cold and clear.
Lina sat in the front row, Ethan beside her. Victoria and Victor and Katherine sat behind them. Lily and Jake sat with Grace and Samuel. Leo and Maya sat with Stella.
The auditorium was packed with parents and grandparents and siblings and friends.
Lina's hands were shaking.
"Are you nervous?" Ethan asked.
"Terrified."
"She's going to be fine."
"What if she forgets her dance? What if she falls off the stage?"
Ethan took her hand. "Then she'll be adorable. And even if she's not adorable, she'll be ours."
Lina leaned into him.
"Ours," she said.
"Ours," he agreed.
---
The lights dimmed.
The music began.
The butterflies flew onto the stage.
Clara was in the front row, her wings shimmering, her wand sparkling. She danced with joy and abandon, her face lit up with a smile.
Lina watched her granddaughter and cried.
"She's a natural," Ethan said.
"She's a ham," Lina replied.
"Same thing, sometimes."
Lina laughed. "That's what I used to say about Lily."
---
The dance ended with the butterflies forming a circle.
Clara stood in the center, her arms outstretched, her wings catching the light.
The audience erupted in applause.
Lina clapped until her hands hurt.
Ethan whistled.
The family cheered.
Clara took a bow.
---
After the recital, the families gathered in the auditorium.
Clara was surrounded by admirers, accepting compliments with the grace of a seasoned performer.
"Thank you. Thank you. Yes, I practiced for weeks. Yes, the wings were itchy. Yes, I am the best butterfly in kindergarten."
Lina walked over to her.
"You were wonderful," she said.
Clara beamed. "I was a butterfly."
"You were the best butterfly."
Clara hugged her. "I love you, Grandma."
Lina held her granddaughter.
"I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything."
---
The celebration continued at the penthouse.
Pizza and cake and ice cream and the particular chaos of a family that had something to celebrate. Clara told the story of the recital again and again, adding new details each time.
Grace asked questions about the choreography. Stella explained the physics of flight. Samuel slept through it all.
Lina watched them and felt her heart swell.
---
Later, after the guests had gone home and the grandchildren were asleep, Lina sat on the couch with Ethan.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Full," Lina said. "Not from the cake. From... everything. From watching her. From seeing her shine."
Ethan put his arm around her. "She gets it from you."
"Get what?"
"The shining. The confidence. The ability to stand in front of a room full of people and not be afraid."
Lina leaned into him. "She gets it from you too."
"Maybe. Or maybe she gets it from herself. Maybe she's just who she's supposed to be."
Lina thought about that.
She thought about Grace, the sun. Stella, the scientist. Clara, the butterfly. Samuel, the baby. All of them perfect, just as they were.
"I can't wait to see who they become," Lina said.
Ethan kissed her forehead.
"Neither can I," he said.
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End of Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Seven