First of all...

Anastasia James

Music has always been present in my life.

More exactly, since my mother's womb, because while she was organizing the house, Beethoven was playing at the latest volume on the stereo. Well, at least this was my father's argument when, at the age of four, I did my first pirouette in the middle of the dining room. And I owe my most sincere thanks to my mother, who strongly influenced me to follow in her footsteps - literally, since I also chose classical ballet.

In the beginning, the dance of light and graceful movements was just a distraction. I enjoyed going to class just to play with the other students, but as time went on, I became attached to it and got into the business, finally understanding that life is like dance. It’s not enough just to move, you need to feel it, to live according to the rhythm of each moment.

And speaking of moments, one of my favorites was when I needed to participate in some big presentation. My heart was beating so fast, I could go faster than the ‘Formula 1’ cars. But my mother was always there supporting and comforting me - and also making me use her ritual of inhale, count to three, and exhale. It helped, but what really calmed me down was the warm, tight hug I would receive before entering the stage. It was a real safe harbor, which gave me the necessary gas to drive away my fears.

All I wanted most at this moment was one of those hugs.

I want to hear her sweet voice telling me that everything is okay, that we would get through this, and that I wouldn't have to sacrifice a good night's sleep with all those problems. Yes, this is exactly the comfort I need now. But, unfortunately, this won’t be possible, because some things have changed.

Actually, everything has changed.

My life could easily be considered perfect. With caring parents and supporters of my dream, I had absolutely everything that any girl on my age wanted. But whoever created this title - or maybe I should call it a stereotype - forgot that not even fairy tales are perfect. Even heroes have their ups and downs, and I’m not different them.

After the cancer took my mother, our life was like a derailed train. We didn't even have the courage to turn on the radio in the living room, the one that used to play melodies all day long, because it would remind us of her and it would be difficult to continue living normally. A few months later my father lost his job, the one to which he had dedicated most of his life. The justification of his “great friend” and boss was that he needed a younger staff, and my father, at the age of fifty-three, would no longer be making the company a profit - an absurd, since he was the one who was most dedicated there.

Despite the difficulties, my father still made an effort to give me a good life by paying for one of the best ballet schools for me - and I thank him a lot for that - but it was complicated. We had to cut out some luxuries and I ended up venturing into some part-time jobs so that we could live with a “tranquility”. It was extremely tiring and, in a way, it made me reflect.

It wouldn't do any good to raise one side while the other was in ruins.

My father wanted me, above all, to follow my dream, but anyone could see clearly that this wouldn’t be possible. So, after much thought, I made one of the biggest decisions of my life: I quit ballet. In the beginning, my father freaked out, claiming that I couldn’t give up my dreams at the first difficulty. But, as time went by, he realized that sooner or later the situation would get complicated and I would have to abandon the boat. In other words, ballet would have to take a back seat at some point.

I confess that it was not easy to make this decision, because getting into The Juilliard School of Dance was one of my greatest desires, but when I cleared my head, I realized what a hassle it would be. We used to live in Chicago, which is a little over twelve hours away from New York, and now, we are moving to South Dakota - which for the unaware, is twice as far away. There is definitely no way to insist on this. Even if I get a full scholarship, we can't pay for the other expenses, like room rent or even new sneakers. I would just delude myself and break my face in the end.

After a while, my father announces, turning off the car:

“We are here.”

It was many hours of driving in that car, and if it weren’t for the view out the window, I doubt I would be in a good mood. When I woke up from my reveries, I got out of the car and went to my father, who was already outside, hands on his waist, enjoying our future - not so new - home. It was a modest housing complex, with buildings just like each other, in a very noisy neighborhood.

Before my father has time to think of some motivational phrase that makes me want to claw my eyes out, I left, returning to the car to get my bags. I took everything I had. Even the trophies and medals I had won in some competitions. They are important to me and, well, new life doesn't mean leaving things in the past, right?

The apartment we’ll live in belongs to my aunt of mother's side. She hasn’t lived here for years and even rented it for a while to make extra rent, but at the first stress with the renter, she decided it would be best to leave it locked up. When she heard about our situation, she didn't think twice about giving up the place to us. And it’s not that bad, except for the fact that there are four floors and no elevator.

After climbing several flights of stairs and walking down a long hallway, we finally entered our “home”. I’m greeted by such a strong musty smell that I coughed almost immediately. The situation in that place was so critical that I could get allergic - and have arachnophobia as well, because the amount of webbing in there was uncommon.

“Your aunt said it was in need of a good cleaning.”

My father scratches the back of his neck as he realizes how much work we will have to do to clean everything.

I sigh and put my suitcase on the floor, walking into the place to try to familiarize myself with everything. The first room I see is the service area. It’s quite small, but in compensation, it has a barred window overlooking the little square in front. It is a beautiful landscape. You can even hear the sound of children running and playing in the street, and the train passing by in the background.

Compared to Chicago, it’s very quiet here, but it still has a very annoying noise. I just hope to have quieter nights, otherwise it will be a real problem.

“Yeah, we have a lot of work to do here,” my father says, hugging me from the side. “but what do you think if we go out to eat and see the neighborhood?”

I look at him and see a suggestive smile on his lips.

The only person who can definitely find good things in such an end of the world could be none other than my father. Honestly, I’m not even surprised anymore by his excitement to live in a place as remote and modest as this. Actually, I think I’ve just learned to accept it, after all, this will be our new life from now on.

“That's good.” I agree, with a long sigh, and say, smoothing my stomach over the mint green sweater I am wearing. “I'm really hungry.”

“Then let's go!”

My father hums, excitedly, making me smile a little.

Well, at least he is happy, and this is what imports to me.