I met Lyrical when I was 2 years old. She was, and is, very special to me. The first time I held her hand, she spun me. When I was 9, Lyrical leaped away and that was disheartening, nevertheless, I found ways to follow her. She moved from town to town, but I always managed to keep in touch. I could dance with her even if it was a long journey to meet her. For some reason, she was aloof, waltzing from place to place -sometimes close, sometimes far. She required me to do more; stretch myself, comit, and not just be a friend to play with once or twice a week. Her companionship became costly, however, I always found ways to be with her. She was pushy. Twice a week became everyday and one hour sessions became four. I was spinning like the first time, but now out of control. Careening, wheeling, spiraling - Inside turns. Outside turns. I needed to learn balance. Finally, I found my center, landing in a new position. I worked harder and spent time with her. We would not always get along. She would often break my heart. I would bend to her whim then snap at her command, the shift making my body ache. But I loved it. The thrill of another day with it. I loved it most in high school where I directed my will to the discipline of technique. In the process, I was introduced to even more friends that knew her as I did. Challenging. Formidable. Intimidating. Even though this relationship has demanded much from me, it has always been my inspiration. Lyrical is ballet. She is jazz. She is Contemporary. She is tap. She is dance. She is it. Dance is my art form. It is the expression of my creativity through my body. It is the showcasing of emotions in ways words fail to convey. My everyday struggles are diminished while spinning, leaping, and jumping. And my life continues to be enriched because of it.