7/27/2019 THWO Als Stories My Prima Ballerina Rose Romberg

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My Prima BallerinaBy Rose Romberg

L

ike the roosters clarion call announces the dawning day, I was convinced my babysoutcry was heard along the corridors as she made her entry into my world. For a brief

moment, the nurse allowed me to hold my baby before she was whisked off for her first bath.

Her dear little head was thickly covered with greasy brown ringlets. She had an unusuallylong body for a newborn, and long dainty fingers for such tiny hands, like a Whirling Dervish.I began weaving... a prima ballerina or a concert pianist.

It all began when my husbands uncle, Charlie, from Winnipeg, paid us a surprise visit. Afterdinner, we retired to the living room. I rushed back to the kitchen to tell Irmagaard, my faithfuldomestic, to have tea and dessert ready in half an hour. As I entered the living room, the soft

music from our turntable was playing Tchaikovskys Dance of the Flowers. Charlie burstout, Rose, I want you to know how much your warm hospitality means to me, especially aShabbat dinner. The Kiddish, the challah, and your gefilte fish. Oh, and Im in love with thislittle girl of yours. Just as quickly, my shy, sensitive four-year-old daughter asked, UncleCharlie, you wanna see me dance? She leapt from Charlies arms to the middle of the room.We all stared in a silent wonder, and we smothered her with hugs and kisses when she wasdone.

Charlie was the first to speak. Rose, how long has this little fairy of yours been taking

lessons?

Charlie, I am just as astonished. You know as much about it as I do. First thing Mondaymorning, Im calling a ballet teacher.

At 3:30 pm, with my daughter in the car, I picked up my 9-year old son, Edward, at school,and we were off to the studio. There were 14 mothers all sitting in a row. Miss Campbell, theballet teacher, was at her desk with Lynn at her side, to watch the children, aged six throughnine, dance. When finished they returned to their seats. Quick as a wink, my shy little girl

rushed to the middle of the floor and began another creative dance in rhythm to the music.Edward, tugging at my shirt and through clenched teeth, whispered, Mo-ther get her offthe floor, slowly sliding off his chair, wishing the floor would cave in under him.

When my incredible child demurely proclaimed to the teacher, this is how it should be done,Miss Campbell took Lynn by the hand, marched her back to me, and said, Mrs. Romberg,bring this child back in a year or two, when shes old enough to take instruction from herteacher.

Im sure my son expected me to reprimand his sister, but I never felt more proud of my PrimaBallerina than at that moment. To me she was, is, and always will be like the scent of the rose,peony, and Iily-of-the-valley; she has perfumed my life.