Today in the car I heard a Chopin piano piece that I’ve heard hundreds of times in ballet classes over the years, including with my mother in her studio. (A former Rockette, she owned a dance studio in our small New Jersey town, and taught tap, jazz, and ballet.) The Chopin piece is always played at the end of the class, when the girls leap across the floor in what is called “big jumps.” My mom is now in home hospice care, confined to her bed, and using a wheelchair. She can’t find the words to make a sentence.
But this morning when I called her, I hummed the tune of the Chopin, and just for a moment she remembered the feeling of flying across the floor, suspended in air, the freedom of that, the joy.
“Beautiful,” she said.
ShareThis
Jessica,
Oh my gosh!!!!! Your article about your mother was poignant, heart wrenching, yet hauntingly beautiful. Thank-you for sharing this special moment.
My mother, a lawyer and trail blazer, who had my back no matter what, died twelve years ago. There is not a day that I don’t miss her.
Joan Underhill
I’m so sorry for your loss, Joan. Your mother sounds amazing. I understand how, twelve years later, you miss her still.
Thanks for reading. ~