When I was ten years old I had my first encounter with ballet. It was not something i had planned, or had even really wanted. It just kind of happened.
My younger sister Chloe, who was seven, dreamed of ballet. She had been begging my mom to sign her up for classes. Finaly, the long awaited day had come. My mom decided to go ahead and pay for a session at the local rec center.Then she asked me if I wanted to take ballet. My answer was no. Not a big surprise there. I was typically scared of the unkown and I knew nothing about ballet. I had no interest in it either.
Although my mom most likely knew what my response would be before she even asked she had to try. I was homeschooled along with my sister, and the only class I had was a once a week art class. She probably wanted me to try something new. I didn't want to try anything new. So I mostly stuck with the familiar and comfortable things in life. And being somewhat stubborn I wasn't going to do something I didn't want to do.
But when my dad came home that night it was brought to his attention that my sister would be taking ballet classes. He encouraged me to try it too. For whatever reason I used to have a harder time saying no to my dad. So I told him I would think about it. This seemed to please him well enough and I went to bed that night sure I would never set foot in a studio.
But the next day something weird happened. When it was time to sign up for the classes my mom asked me again if I wanted to do ballet. It was the next single word I said that changed my life and took it in a direction that I never expected. I said, "Yes." Of course this brought protest from poor Chloe who argued that ballet was her thing, and she wanted to do it. Why did I have to do it to? That might have been a question I was asking myself. I had said yes to ballet. And to this day I have no idea why.