You’d think it’d be the solos on Broadw...

You’d think it’d be the solos on Broadway, or living my dreams out, but...when I was five or six, the studio put on a recital. And I was Flower Number 6. I stood in the back most of the show, but we got to do a little -

(She stands up, and does a very, very simple jump and twirl step. She coughs, once.)

And it was nothing, but when I got up to do it, I saw my Dad. He was supposed to be on a business trip, out of town. But he came, he somehow shifted his schedule so he could see his baby dance. He was right there, in the front row, beaming at his little flower. And I saw him mid-jump. I got so excited I forgot how to land. I just crashed into a heap in the middle of the stage. He jumped out of his seat and picked me up, and I just kept yelling “Daddy! Daddy” over and over, and the whole show kind of got derailed. It was magical, and awful, and wonderful, and humiliating - it was dance, I guess.

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