T he first time I saw you you were airborne.
I was at the very beginning of my high school career; you in 12th grade were at the tail end of yours. As a nerdy ninth-grader with wire-rimmed glasses who started wearing her hair in a bump a year after it came into fashion I was captivated by your easy confidence and poise.
From the side (I no longer remember if that was by choice or not) I watched you dance along a low fence laughing demonstrating your balance and dexterity. You landed light as a butterfly when you hopped off. You were a star ballet dancer; you were popular confident and cool. You were everything I wasn’t.
I trailed behind watching you for a long time. But you couldn’t have known that.
