Paper Jets

OPINION: Having quit ballet just days from opening night, I long dreamed of returning to the studio. It's been almost a year since my move to New Plymouth and I've been waiting to bump into the dance teachers of my youth as a sign it's time to return. Who am I kidding. I was making detours past the Val Deakin Dance School in an attempt to speed up the process. Ballet is one of those childhood hobbies almost every girl starts but few of us finish as prima ballerinas. Those of you who have ever had the gall to back-chat a ballet teacher will know exactly what I'm talking about. My first days of dancing were as a shy six year old with pigtails. It was adorable, we wore frilly dresses and played toy soldiers, spinning tops and teddy bears to music. My ballet teacher at the time was friendly enough to us, though she earned the nickname 'the dragon lady' among the mothers for her air of formidability. Ballet is a discipline but also an exquisite form

OPINION: I have to dig deep to show emotion when a friend's upset. Adult tears are mesmerising. It's not that I don't feel their sadness, oh I do. It's just that I had to cope with intense grief as a child. I was 11 and Dad was supposed to live forever. Losing a parent when you are young can make you resilient in many ways. Over time though, resilience can morph into hardness. It's taken years of watching the close bond between my husband and his dad to realise a father's role doesn't diminish at the end of childhood. That bond was what pulled my husband, and our young family with it, back from Auckland to New Plymouth last year. There were a number of reasons for this move, but most pressingly has been my husband's need to spend quality time with his father before age and ailing health rob them. Through seeing my husband snuggle up to his dad like a boy and ask him for advice, I've learned that the role of a father is one intended to guide