A little more sweetness from the Paris Opera House…
The auditorium of the Opera House drips with gold filigree and deep wine colored velvet. I stood inside one of the opera boxes a level above ground floor and unabashedly gawked. I made my way through the small crowd to the front of the box clicking photos; through my lens I noticed my daughter in an opera box across the way. Unlike the people around her, she wasn’t taking in the over-the-top architecture around her. Following her gaze, I discovered a lone ballerina on stage and my heart caught in my throat.
Ballet was a huge part of our family life as the kids grew up. My daughter danced for fourteen years. I could see in her eyes that every pirouette of the dancer made another memory spin through her memory.
My ballerina has grown. She still loves the ballet, but she has other loves as well, including a love for the French language. Now she dreams of being a French professor. This fall she will help one of her professors teach an undergraduate French course, bringing her one step closer to her ultimate goal.
For one brief moment last fall the dreams of the girl and the dreams of the young woman unexpectedly intertwined in the vision of a ballerina in Paris. It was bittersweet and beautiful.