Graceful is an Adjective

i.
Somewhere between the ravine and the sprawl of convenience stores I left footprints, halting and clumsy, on beaten pathways between bikers and dogs. I traversed slowly between pine trees and brush to the waters edge to catch frogs and skip stones, and dream.
I did not move with grace, or any sense of proportion. I stumbled, tripped, and beat my way through the low lying undercoat of nettles and rose bushes to look in to the swirling depths of  the creek and wish, dream, hope for my prince to come, for I am a princess and I need somebody with a strong shoulder and good wits to protect me, and make me graceful by proxy. I conjure images of our beautiful children who would be born with an innate sense of harmony, who could rond de jambe l’air and rond de jambe à terre from birth, their sissonne ouverte grande being their birth.

ii.
I  have never been considered graceful. I have always been more worthy of the term inept, or awkward. I never spread my wings, or arched a beautiful neck to look towards a glorious sky like a swan. Instead, I would slip beneath old sheets on hot nights and count stucco stalactites while other girls danced, sang, and dressed appropriately, clearly far more graceful than I.
This adjective would never encompass me, would never fold itself like origami around me. I would never become the crane, the frog, or the paper box. I would always be hovering somewhere between the grace and the ful, but I would never join the two together in create any specific or fluid movement.

iii.
There are five basic positions of the feet in classical ballet, pieds, cinq positions des - and every step or movement is begun and ended in one or another of these positions. I envy, nay, hate ballerinas for their hip wrenching, back breaking streamlined training, for their delicacy and creamy skin, their pretty tutu’s ruffled in the glory of the spotlight and their pointe shoes scuffed from their string of pearls across the stage. I want to be like this, I want to traipse and languish, I want to be caught by a blond, whimsical hero. I want, want, want…For I am the embodiment of human nature. Entirely selfish, this is what I want. I have doubts that anyone who is a human being would disagree with me, for we as a species care more for our own skin then that of another. Jealousy turns me green, which is not the color of grace, it is the color of envy.

iv.
My children sing off key. They two-step like monkeys, flailing, and can not work well with their hands. I find that this is alright, that I can deal with this because it is endearing and while they are not equal to Virginia Zucchi, or Jules Perrot, I can stand to be their supporting leg. They pirouette around me, on their way to school, back home, chores and homework. Their ligne is a little off kilter, and a good dancer must have their line in order, but they are gorgeous to me. To me they are graceful and beautiful, they are everything I ever wanted to be, and through them, I am finally, irrevocably graceful.

Dictionary: grace·ful (grās'fəl)
Adj.
Showing grace of movement, form, or proportion.