Kissing Gram on the cheek, I whispered, “He didn't drink it. It didn't feel right.”
She squeezed my hand. I knew this was her way of telling me she
understood.
“Ok, I'm ready to dance. Mrs. Ward brought us some of her famous Stupid Chicken Soup. There is even some left for you and Cole,” Meg said cheerily.
Nothing was more comforting than Mrs. Ward's recipe. The barbecue sauce-
flavored broth with pieces of chicken, pureed potatoes, red peppers, garlic, and
fresh basil made the most unique tasting concoction.
Cole and I enjoyed a bowl of soup while Meg went over the upcoming
events of the evening. Gram pretended to be cleaning the shop, but I could tell
she was deep in thought.
As she arranged the small amount of inventory left, I overheard my
grandmother softly whisper, “Goddess, please give us the strength we need to face these imminently dark days.”
Chapter
Fifteen
Gram brought Meg to wait at the stage with the rest of the young
dancers. A sea of girls in silver and blue dresses with bouncy curls
greeted my sister. All of them were anxious for the event to begin.
Cole and I found seats several rows from the stage. We grew impatient as the
time seemed to pass slower as our excitement increased before Meg's
performance. Once the girls were brought up onto the stage, Gram joined us. We
clapped happily, knowing the show would finally start.
As the lights flashed and the music began, the dancers came out in groups of
five. When Meg's group joined the stage, Cole cheered loudly. Looking down at
us, Meg gave us an exaggerated wink.
My sister's performance was vibrant. She jumped, twirled, and danced as if
she had been in the spotlight her entire life. Gram looked on with a bright smile.
I squeezed her hand, and she grasped mine tighter. I could see how proud she was of Meg.
As the dance ended, a bright splash of purple and silver twirled onto the stage and leaped at heights that astonished the crowd. My mind drifted back to
my dance classes. The words my teacher would call out to us rang in my ear.
“Posture, ladies, posture!” the voice from my past demanded. “Sauté, Sauté,
Chassé – No! No! No! Back to the barre! We must practice the basics again!”
With a seemingly endless pirouette, my old dance instructor, Ms. Lilianna,
commanded the stage. When her twirling stopped, she bellowed, “Thank you,
thank you! Tonight, we celebrate another year of family, friendship, and
community. My little dancers have, once again, delighted me, and I hope you!”
The audience clapped and cheered in agreement.
“Each year, after the night's performance, one student is selected to perform
the last dance.”
Behind her, the young dancers returned to the stage in a choreographed soft
tap. The girls surrounded their teacher in a half-circle. With anticipation, they waited to see if their name would be called.
