The dress almost fit her perfectly.
She set the gramophone, her mother’s most prized possession, to her favourite tune and took in a deep breath. Glancing at herself in the mirror, her hair tied in a bun and with stocking clad feet, standing up on her toes, she tried to admire the way she looked.
A chubby, young girl spilling out of her dress stared back at her, face reddened with the pressure of trying to fit in, both into the dress as well as into her family.
Slowly, her hands went high up above her head as she tried a dance pose. At the same time, she heard the sound of the camera flash from behind her and almost instantaneously she heard her dress ripping somewhere.
Startled, she turned to check the back of her dress in the mirror, the expression of worry written all over her face.
“It’s alright, sweetheart!” A male voice behind her said. “You look beautiful.”
She turned, her eyes filled with tears.
“It’s no use, dad.” She said, wiping away a drop that escaped her eyes. “I’ll never match up to her.”
Shaking the photograph in his hand, trying to dry it, her father put the Polaroid camera on the desk and gave her a gentle hug.
“Look,” He said, kissing her cheek and showing her the photograph. “You look just like her!”
She traced the outline of her own body in the captured piece of card and attempted to smile.
“I miss mom!” She said and clung on to him tightly as she sobbed away on his brand new white shirt. But he didn’t care about the shirt.
He missed Martha as well.
The memory of her tripping down a flight of stairs during one of her stage shows, her last one, flashed in his mind. She did not survive the fall.

The night was perfect. The breeze was cool and the atmosphere had a certain buzz to it.
“I’m so nervous,” She said, pacing around backstage.
He observed the frown lines on her forehead and the slight downward curve of her lips. Her lovely ballerina dress sparkled on her. He thought she added beauty to the dress. But then again, he was biased when it came to her.
“Don’t be,” He said, taking her hand. “You’ll be the best one out there, I’m sure.”
He watched as her face relaxed into the smile that he had fallen in love with.
“Wish me luck!” She said, beaming. “This is a big deal for me!”
He grinned and told her that she didn’t need any luck. She had talent on her side.
As he rushed to the hall, where over two thousand people sat, he knew in his heart that she’d be gorgeous on stage and that this performance would mark the rest of her life.
He was right.
It did.
But not in the way he expected it would.
 
He remembered sitting in the crowd, his eyes wide in shock as he expected her to stand up and take a big bow, her beautiful, sparkling smile lighting up the entire room.
But she never got up.
He sat in that seat for the longest time, just waiting, unable to believe that the woman his heart beat for would never be with him again.

When they first got married, over eight years ago, he’d seen her in their college dance show and fallen in love with her instantly. There was a glow on her face and a miracle in her smile that lit up his world.

Cradling his daughter in his arms now, he sat on her bed and wiped away a lonely tear.
“I don’t think anyone will ever be like her.” He said, sitting his daughter on his lap and holding her chin up with one finger. “But if anyone could ever try, it would be you, my angel.”
She smiled at him, a hopeful smile, and kissed him on his cheek.
“Do you think I have what it takes?”
“I don’t think you have the potential. I know you do.”
“No more goodies, dad. I need to fit into this dress.” She said, wiping away her own tears. “I’m going to try my best to make my mom proud.”
As she left the room, attempting another dance move in her torn dress, her father looked on and smiled.

“It’s a baby girl!” She laughed, tears in her eyes. “I have my own precious little baby girl!”
He hugged them both and kissed Martha on her forehead.
“She looks just like you,” He smiled, struggling to control his own tears. “Now I have two favourite girls.”
“Do you think she’ll become a ballerina?” Martha asked. “Oh, how I would love to practice with her and teach her everything I know! She’ll be so much better than me because I’ll support her with all my heart. Do you think it is possible?”
He nodded. The image of his two ladies practicing side by side filled his heart with warmth.
“Maybe we’ll perform together,” She said, stars in her eyes at a future she didn’t know she could never have.
“You’ll be famous!” He said. “So famous!”
“But only if she wants to,” Martha confirmed, nodding. “Only if she loves dance. If she doesn’t, I’ll understand.”
He knew then that if their daughter grew up to dislike dancing, though Martha would be torn apart, she wouldn’t influence their child’s decision.
That made him love her more.

At the age of six, his daughter was showing tremendous interest for dancing. He knew Martha’s love for dance was what drove her, but his daughter was driven by her love for her mother and that made him even more proud.

Walking into his room, with the photo of his daughter in his hand, as she made the perfect ballerina pose, he watched her reflection in the mirror and smiled to himself. It reminded him of the photo in his dressing table drawer, hidden from prying eyes.
Hunting for it, another memory crossed his mind.

“This is what I want to do for as long as my legs will let me!” Martha exclaimed, trying on her dress and looking at her own reflection. “Dancing is what makes me feel alive!”
He hugged her from behind, kissing her cheek.
“I’m happy if you are, my love!” He said.
“I want to show you something, Roger!” She sprinted across the room, hyper and happy with herself as she showed him a photograph.
“That was me when I was six!” She said, waiting expectantly for his reaction.
He looked at the photo and smiled. She looked stunning.
Watching her now, as enthusiastic as that six year old in the photograph, he took in a deep breath, as his whole life flashed in front of his eyes. The moment had confirmed the biggest decision of his existence. That was the day he had asked her to marry him.

He finally found the photograph and looked at it.
It was of his wife, standing in front of a mirror, her expression that of frustration as she tried the same ballerina pose that his daughter was trying a few minutes ago. Placing both the photographs next to one another, he realized the striking resemblances and felt his heart beat faster.
In one hand was the photograph of the woman of his dreams and in the other was the photograph of the child that meant more to him than life. Decades apart, and yet they both followed the same thing,
Passion.

Placing both the photos back in the drawer, he walked out of the room in search of his daughter.
Today, she was still a child. Tomorrow, she would be a woman.
No matter who was with her and who wasn’t, he’d be there.
They would be there.