A Songbird That Cannot Fly Struggles to Soar

The year I turned eighteen, my sister pushed me down the backstage stairs to steal the only slot at the National Dance Company. My right leg was shattered, and she put on my costume, danced the routine I had choreographed, and became the principal dancer. Mom said she was only carrying my dream forward for me. I believed it for a full ten years. Until her principal anniversary performance ended, and from my wheelchair I watched my husband, Patrick, walk onto the stage and set the crown on her head with his own hands.