The soles of my dance shoes are worn
And the seams near the laces are badly torn
I want to blame them for not being able to properly land
But it’s also that I’ve been ill - I’m not the same as I usually am

I stand at the barre to stretch and position
I see myself in the mirror - my body seems abstract - out of vision
I attempt to correct my shoulders - to see how the rest of my body aligns
But I can’t seem to pull myself up, no matter how I try

I move away from the barre ready for the music to begin
The last time I practiced the routine - I don’t remember how long it’s been
I find my place, simultaneously attempting to match the song with the right mood
But I’m not ready for the acceleration, and it changes my attitude

I’m can’t find a focal point in order to perform the spinning
Soon, I’m unable to move, overcome with a nauseous feeling
I give up and nod my way out the door
Wondering if I’m just not able to dance anymore

I don’t bother to change out of my leotard
I just throw my jacket over my head and pull my jeans on
And walk to the next studio to stand and face the window
I look in as she stands at the barre so beautiful and perfectly posed

I watch for as long as I can without her noticing
Her black leotard contrasting so dramatically with her blonde hair and fair skin
Her moves so graceful, her position so delicate
She dances with the music, assertively and so accurate

My mood and spirit changes instantly
As I watch her with such intensity
I’m drawn by the wit, intellect, charm and personality of this very young woman
She is not just anyone
She is my beautiful daughter
And, she is her own. She is...Cora.

She is who she wants to be
Odd how much she admires me
When in fact, it is a different turn
It is I who wishes I could be much like her.