Her name is Marie van Goethem, and she’s a young ballet student at the Paris Opera. She stands informally in fourth position, her head back, the ribbon holding her braid dangling. Her hands are joined behind her. Her eyes are closed, her face upturned. What is she thinking about? Maybe she dreams of becoming a famous ballerina one day...
“Mommy, let’s color,” she would say and go get her plastic pencil box filled with crayons. I’d pull out construction paper or printer paper and other supplies and sit down at the table with her. She would stand or sit on her knees in the chair, lean on the table, and hold a worn-down crayon between chubby toddler fingers...
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