A Red Leaf, a Bad Day, and a Dance Class

     I can remember sitting in the passenger seat of my mom's car one glum afternoon and thinking to myself for the first time, Today was a bad day.  I started to replay the days events over in my head, getting gloomier and gloomier by the minute.  Soon enough we arrived at our destination, my Grandma's house. (Because I can't help but to mention her in every blog. She's that awesome.) As I descend towards the front door, something red catchers my eye in the green of the grass.  It's just a leaf, that happens to be red, but it stops me in my tracks.  It's the first red leaf of the year, and I have to show my Grandma. I pick it up and as I do I drop all of the gloom that has been following me around all day.  As I race towards the front door now, leaf in hand, a fleeting thought crosses my mind... Maybe today isn't so bad after all.  

    I'm a lot older now but this week I had what by 7 a.m. in the morning I had already deemed, "A Bad Day."  I was awoken in the middle of the night by a pesky nosebleed, I couldn't find a parking spot at school, everyone was getting on my nerves.. ya know just one of those days.  By the time I was on my way to the dance studio, I was done.  I had lost my voice.  Teaching a dance class was going to be rough.  Or so I thought.  It's turns out my group of twelve Kindergartner's had other plans.  Instead of me teaching them, they ended up teaching me a thing or to.

   Upon entering the dance room I noticed that about half of the class was already in the room, sitting patiently criss-cross applesauce on the floor. I joined them, unprepared for what the next hour would entail.  Shall we call it a series of mood altering events?  Let's make a list:

 "J" enters the room, presenting me with a bouquet of beautiful wildflowers that she has picked for me from her farm.

  She drew me a picture too.

   "M" cuddles up right next to me and tells me she has a secret, and whispers in my ear "You are my favorite dance teacher ever!"

  "JC" enters the room, tackles me with a bear hug, kisses me on the cheek, tells me she loves me... and I think she may have even asked me to marry her somewhere in between...

At this point I take a deep breath and in my whisper voice explain my situation to them...

  "K" looks at me quizzically, hits her palm against her forehead and shakes her head.  I laugh. 

  I ask them what Disney princess this reminds them of, and they all know the answer. 

We start class.

 I lead them in warm-up.  They follow. 

 I point to the left side of the room, they go line up to go across the floor.

  I do the beginning step of their ballet dance, they rush to their beginning spots.

 The "big kids" class comes over, they show them our dance. They clap for us enthusiastically. 

. The other classes teacher looks impressed and says to me, "They did changements!  They're too little!" 

  I motion over to their dance bags, they quickly put on their tap shoes.

 Etc, etc, etc.

As I left I thought to myself, They were so good today!  But that was a lie, because that's how they are every class.  Each class I am bombarded with smiles, giggles, hugs, and yes sometimes even marriage proposals.  They remind me of a lesson that I learned a long time ago.  There are no bad days.  There may be bad moods or bad moments, but when you least expect it you just might catch a glimpse of that little red leaf that turns your day around.

 -L
I wish you all a happy Fall!  May we all dance in many piles of crunchy leaves!!!  :)  






   

Little Brown Boots

I hate shoes.  I don't care how stereotypically Kentucky it is, but I would have no problem walking around barefoot on any given occasion.  When I was small the only pair of shoes I would keep on my feet for any length of time were my little brown boots.  Growing up I was at my Grandma's house just about everyday, and at the time my uncle lived with her.  He had long hair, drove a little red pick up truck, and always smelled like cigars or freshly mowed grass.  He always wore boots.  I can hardly recall him ever being inside the house.  He could always be found in the garage or out in the yard.  He could fix anything, and put up a fence, redid the deck, and built a shed in the backyard like it was nothing at all.  He was close to his mom, paced when he listened to music, liked taking pictures of flowers, and sometimes just needed to be left alone.  Sound familiar?  Little did I know I would grow up to be just like him.  There's a lot of talk now-a-days about kids of divorces.  I can honestly say that I never felt like I missed anything by not having a father, because I had something better.  I had a Dave.  He bought me my first bike, let me jump around on his waterbed, and always made my Grandma put me down so I could explore things on my own.  He no longer lives with my Grandma and he ditched the mullet long ago, but he still drives that little red truck.  We don't talk much now, but we're not really the talking kind.  Deep down I know that I'm still that little girl wearing a pair of little brown boots, wanting to be just like my uncle.