An Unknown Character Has Spoken To Me

My fondest memories of my Mama are the moments when she didn't think anyone was watching her. The moments when she danced barefoot on the hardwood floor of the living room, humming a song I didn't recognize, her eyes closed as she twirled in clumsy almost forgotten ballerina moves with her arms up over her head or stretching out from her sides. She smiled like I've never seen her smile before, with her long black hair piled lazy up on top of her head and no make up. I always thought she must be an angel with the way the morning light streamed in through the front picture window and wrapped around her. I would lay under the dining room table with my head propped up in my hands watching her dance. My Grandmother told me once it was my fault my mother wasn't a ballerina. Mama told me once I was the reason she knew what being happy really meant.