Losing Kate

I have been taking ballet classes for over a year now and still was going to class in socks. I had tried ordering ballet shoes but they were too big. Not wanting to go to a physical ballet store, I settled to slip around on the marley floor.

When I went home, I checked my old dance bag. The old vera bradley duffle was cold from being stored in my parents’ attic. All the old stink particles had been frozen away. Once smelling like pizza and feet, it now smelled sterril. A memory long gone.

I dug through heaps of old leotards that would barely fit around one thigh now. I remember where I got most of them. The pretty colorful ones were from a second hand market outside my ballet summer camp. The black one with the mesh top was from the dance store two minutes from my house. The store smelled like satin and hairspray.

I pulled out my last pair of point shoes in the pink mesh bag. It had my toe spacers, pads, and a mini hand sanitizer holder. The shoes were a little frayed by still had some life in them.

My favorite legwarmers was missing its other half. The tights had runs. And there were very few things that I could step back into.

But my canvas ballet shoes were at the bottom. A hole was springing in the toes. My bunion was peaking out. But they fit.

I wore them to class, and I felt more connected to the floor. I can barely do what I used to warm up with, but I can feel the floor pushing back as I tendu.