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'Step-hop, step-hop, step-hop,' kept running through my head as I watched my daughter dance across the stage. The grace and fluidity of her movement was remarkable. Tears welled at the edges of my eyes, threatening to ruin my mascara. 


'Step-hop, step-hop, step-hop.' As she pirouetted and then pointed, I thought of how twisted her face was during those early years of frustration. A five year old infuriated by the act of having to skip in order to advance to the next level. 


'Step-hop, step-hop, step-hop.' She leapt into the air, her strong legs and flexible body curving just right. The men and women gasped at her obvious athletic ability. She was a thing of beauty and talent. 


'Step-hop, step-hop, step-hop.' A shriek rang in through the sliding glass door. I ran to see what had happened. There my little girl was skipping around the deck. Her joy shown brighter than the sun.


"She must have been born with a great deal of natural ability," the man next to me said as we stood in our row waiting to exit.


I smiled. "No, just a life long mantra of step-hop, step-hop, step-hop. It's her way of expressing the hard, diligent work it took to learn how to soar."


*** One Minute Writer ***