“For six years we attended the ballet and sat side by side in the center, in our front row seats. Muv had her favorite dancers and so did I, yet there was nothing to debate like when attended the theater, here, we just sat in complete awe.
One night Norman Durkee invited us backstage, he was spectacular while performing on stage, stark in three shades, black, white and grey, the effect highlighted by pink and white ballerinas dancing around his grand piano. At intermission we left our seats. At first I felt like I was trespassing amongst the goddesses, as if disturbing their artistic space. Some of the dancers were slumped against the wall with feet flat, their magical energy in reserve… “
The above is an excerpt from my book, A European Odyssey; How a boxer’s daughter found grace
It was a magical night and worth writing about – I promise as I tease with a tiny read. Little did I know, more than the memories and events, a little statue would morph into a magical item; a talisman.
We laughed, two little statues. An impulse buy one night, why one; one for each of us. But my little Degas dancer is still with me – Muv is not. One could argue I assimilated Muv. Perhaps an odd concept to some, but one my cousin suggested would happen. She said, “Bailey, you will assimulate her.” She said this the day after Muv died. I had no idea what she was talking about, I would enter pathological grief. And then I would leave my grief. I would assimulate Muv. That too was surreal.
Whenever I hear another talk about how they’ve assimilated a parent after they’ve passed; I get it, completely.
And I still have my little Degas, she’s moved along with me, from Seattle, to Paris, to Prague, Amsterdam and all the rest. She’s content here, in Italy. We both are…
