Amazingly, it's here. I am offically "back", as we say (dancers are "out" when they're injured and "back" when they're, well, back) and tomorrow is the first day I will be rehearsing, almost six months after ankle surgery. Now that I'm sitting here at this vantage point, six months doesn't seem like a very long time. In fact, I almost can't believe the journey of these recent months even happened--- really? My big daily expedition was crutching down the block to the coffee shop, and even that was exhausting? Going up and down the stairs to get the mail was a daunting task? I relied on doing the James Brown shuffle to get a cup of tea from the stove to the table on one leg without hopping? And then, finally, released from that crazy cast, my leg quivered like a leaf when I merely stood on it? During those times I don't think I truly thought about the future. I dealt with each day, each hour in fact, as they happened. It was just too difficult to imagine the future without fear.
I may be dancing again, but I am far from normal (or from where I started). My ankle is not the same as it was, and may not be for a long time yet. But I'll start out into this new phase of things and just keep taking it one step at a time. I can't wait to get back in there and do my thing.