I found my old ballet slippers. I thought I had thrown them away. They were in a box in my closet, all wrapped up in tissue paper like they were when Nadine bought them for me. It was an immensely sad moment for me. I was holding one of the most cherished items of my childhood and I could no longer do what I loved most in the whole world: dancing. I started ballet when I was 5 and flourished as a dancer, going en pointe finally at 9. It was short-lived. When I was around 11 or 12, I was going to do Coppelia at Center Arts. I was meant to be one of the dolls.

I never even made it to the stage.
I fell down the Founder's Hall stairs and almost shattered my right ankle. If I hadn't done that, I would be dancing professionally right now. I can never dance en pointe again. And my ballet slippers are still in my closet, a silent and sad reminder of what might have been.

I should stop cleaning, it unearths things that were better off buried.