Today was the day we rushed out of ballet practice

The day where my mom screamed while the music played

"Honey, we need to go.. now" she told me in jumpy voice

Anxiety hung in the air and our shoulders in the car

Hands at ten and two, my dad's eyes were fixed on the road

At every red light he'd shift uneasily and glance at mom

Her face read pain, but I really didn't see anything wrong

No blood, no cuts, not bruises. She really does look normal

Hair up in a clip, her favorite grey sweater, and Keds tied with bows

Nothing out of the ordinary, but her breathing. "In and out honey"

How deep and sparse her breathes were, it worried me me

There I sat in my tutu and tights, eyes fixated on the passing by world

Today was the day we didn't take the normal turn home

A right at the house with the pool and a left by the huge oak tree

My tutu ruffled on the backseat as I sat there disoriented

With a loud screech, the tires turned into a lot with a white building

Today was a day was the day we rushed out of ballet practice

The day my grandma and I sat in a waiting room for hours

I was just a mere spectator, but I was so beyond scare

The day a man in a white coat said my mom was gonna be “just fine”

But, today was the day I met my little sister