I raised my hand, dirty sleeve and all.
Her whole body relaxed, like she could finally breathe.
She danced like the stage belonged to her.
Was she perfect?
No.
She wobbled, turned the wrong way once, looked at the girl beside her for cues.
But her smile grew every time she spun, and I swear I felt my heart trying to clap its way out of my chest.
When they bowed, I was already half crying.
Dust, obviously.
Afterward, I waited in the hallway with the other parents.
Glitter everywhere, tiny shoes tapping on tile.
When Lily saw me, she ran full speed, tutu bouncing, bun slightly crooked.
“You came!” she shouted, like it had ever been uncertain.
She hit my chest so hard it nearly knocked the air out of me.
“I told you,” I said, my voice shaking.
“I looked and looked,” she whispered into my shirt.
“I thought maybe you got stuck in the garbage.”
I laughed, though it came out more like a choke.
