Kids laugh and cry at dance competitions.
I’ve seen my daughter do both.

Her teacher was the principal dancer
For the Shanghai Ballet twenty years ago.
Later, she crossed an ocean
To become the principal dancer for
The Los Angeles and San Francisco ballet.

Madame Mao’s talent scouts
Found her at five
In a peasant’s hut.
They measured her arms and legs
To discover perfect proportions.
She flew away from her village
Leaving childhood and family behind
To drill sixteen hours a day,
Six days a week for longer than a decade.

Twenty years later,
She opened her wings
And won the gold medal in Paris.

My wife,
Willing to work hard,
Wanted to be a ballerina
During the Cultural Revolution.
She sat on the curb outside the
Shanghai ballet watching.
That’s how she learned
To walk with her toes out
Dreaming of having
Glass dancing shoes
That fit her feet only.

Our American born daughter,
When she was ten,
During ballet practice,
Flapped her arms and dragged her feet
When mother wasn’t watching.

I was no different,
When learning piano
At a similar age.
I wanted Mozart
Before mastering Chopsticks.

At dance competitions,
Daughter cried when she
Didn’t win the gold.

Children want to be the butterfly
Without having been the larva
And the caterpillar first.

The only time that
Ten year old
Daughter’s lights lit
Happened while watching TV and
Drinking or eating sweets.

If an apple pie
Was on the table,
She drooled.

At sixteen,
She took a step back
And spun the cocoon.
Hoping it wasn’t too late.

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