Mothers and Wives

by Sarah Kovatch

I’m sitting at my desk with a stack of bills and wearing my serious, bill-paying-face, when my phone chimes with a text from Elisa, one of my oldest, dearest friends who knows me like a sister (even our looks are sisterly). Elisa and I were side-by-side through middle school, high school, and college, but we have lived our grown-up lives in different parts of the country. She’s a doctor now and recently closed on a new house.

I look away from my online banking, happy to be distracted, and click on her text. It reads: The moving crew. HOT. 

The way she writes it gets me and I giggle out loud. I text back three dancing-lady emojis and crack up more.

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Grace

by Sarah Kovatch

I have two mom friends who also happen to be dancers. My neighbor Cristen danced all her life and taught dance before becoming a physical therapist. She still makes time to attend dance classes a few nights a week after her kids go to bed. Another friend Jennifer is a recently retired principle ballerina from the NYC Ballet. Now she teaches dance at a performing arts college in LA.

Dance is my favorite art form to watch. The theater lights dim and I tear up. Performances move me. All their hard work! So much at stake! But I’m not a dancer. Even at family weddings I get dance anxiety.

And so, when Jennifer and Cristen invited me to a Tuesday night beginning tap class this summer just for fun, I begged, “Can’t we please just go out for drinks instead?”

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