Rainesford Stauffer in Time Magazine:
I swept my arm overhead, forming a half-moon shape as my body bent into a side stretch. I could almost hear the ballet instructors of my childhood calling out steps: Plié first position. Keep your heels down. Legs straighten, lift your kneecaps. Stretch toward the barre.
When I started experimenting with ballet as an adult, it had been well over a decade since I last took a class. I started alone with no mirrors, clutching my kitchen counter in tennis shoes. It was as if this routine had been lying dormant in my muscles and my memory. I still knew the steps. I could still hum music that had been paired with certain exercises. But now, this melody was accompanied by my knees snapping, crackling, and popping.
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