It starts the same every day. The alarm goes off. He sighs and I hear the dog yawn and stretch. The water turns on. The closet door creaks, and that’s when I roll over. He heads to the coffee pot, laces his boots, and shuts the door. It’s quiet again. Sometimes I get a ‘babe, I fed the dog,’ and occasionally I get the sweetest kiss on the cheek. I live for that kiss on the cheek, but he knows I’m tired, so he tries to never wake me.
Fifteen hours later…
The dog barks. I walk in the door. I set down my things, and get covered in sloppy Presley kisses. I peek my head in the bedroom and he’s out like a light. I sigh. I set the coffee pot for the morning, and run through the same bedtime routine. Sometimes he wakes up, but most nights I just slip into bed, quietly, because I know he’s tired, and I try to never wake him.
The hardest part of owning a dance studio is not answering endless e-mails or fielding numerous messages a day. It’s not picking out music and choreographing routines. It’s not hearing ‘miss meg’ endless times a day or rubbing tiny ankles where tap shoes have kicked. It’s not catching up on book work, or running social media, or cleaning up endless amounts of hair on the dance floor (so. much. hair).
It’s missing dinner, not hearing ‘how was your day,’ and longing for hugs.
It’s consecutive days and nights of two ships passing in the night. Of surviving off of a few text messages a day, the occasional phone call, and I don’t know how many ‘I miss you’s’.
I remember when I wanted to open the dance studio, one of my dance teachers told me this would be the hardest part. And that if and when I had children it would be even harder. And she was right. But the truth is, I would not change it for the world. I absolutely love what I do… and I am thankful everyday for Mr Miss Meg and the sacrifices he makes so I can continue to live my dream.
…because the hardest part of being a dance teacher, is being the person waiting at home for them.