My grandmother moved in with us after my grandfather died. I adored my grandmother and was so excited to have her living with us, although I was sad for the reason. She didn’t bring much with her except clothes and treasured keepsakes and photos. 

She didn’t tell us she brought ghosts with her as well.

After school, I would run home to sit with Grandma and listen to stories about her life. She once had tea with Queen Elizabeth at Buckingham Palace! 

“Mom, did you hear that?” I would exclaim after every cool revelation as my mother cooked dinner. She would laugh because she heard the same stories as a child herself.

My favorite stories, though, were about her years as a ballerina. Grandma showed me pictures of herself on stage, on pointe in pink shoes and tutu, leaning gracefully into her partner’s arms, in a line of dancers looking on as Odette performs in Swan Lake, and candid pictures taken backstage with her friends, laughing while putting on makeup.

One night I heard faint music from her room and thought maybe she left her TV on. I quietly opened her door a crack, and saw a woman dancing, ethereal and shimmery. I watched, astonished, until she faded away a few minutes later. I looked over at my grandmother who was sound asleep. The dancer had faded when Grandma turned over.

I talked to Grandma the next day after school and told her what I saw. I expected her to tell me I was imagining things, but she laughed a little instead.

“Oh, Sweetheart! I don’t know how, but sometimes when I dream of past performances, one of my fellow dancers will leave my dream for a little while. Only a friend who has passed on, though. I had no idea until your grandfather told me. We were both flabbergasted about it of course, but your grandfather grew to enjoy those occasional ghostly performances.”

“Have you dreamed of Grandpa?”

“Oh, yes, but he wasn’t a dancer, so I’m sure he stays in my dreams. He never saw anyone other than dancers I had performed with come out of my dreams.” She smiled. “Maybe it’s because dancers can never really be contained.”

After that, I began sleeping in Grandma’s bed with her so I could be there whenever dancers appeared. I never told my parents about it because I knew they either wouldn’t believe me, or would think my grandmother was developing dementia or something. And anyway, I liked sharing this extraordinary secret with her.

Grandma didn’t have these dreams every night, which was good, because I don’t think I would ever get any sleep. But when she did, she was always able to tell me who she had dreamed about when I’d describe the dancer.

Her best friend Margaret appeared one night, dancing as Aurora in The Sleeping Beauty. Grandma told me she played The Lilac Fairy in that company, the fairy who put a spell on Aurora that would protect her from death after Carabosse cursed the infant.

“Did you ever have a lead part, Grandma?” 

“Oh, several! I played Cinderella, Juliette, Clara from The Nutcracker—”

“I love The Nutcracker!” I interrupted. “I would love to have seen you play Clara.”

“You know, Corinne, every girl wanted to be the Sugar Plum Fairy. It was the most coveted role because not only did she have a solo, she got to perform a breathtaking Grand Pas de Deux with her handsome Cavalier. 

“But I loved playing the Dewdrop Fairy. I got to dance among my friends in “The Waltz of the Flowers.” I always got lost in Dewdrop’s music.” Grandma hummed a few bars while swaying her arms in the air, the rest of her body unmoving in her wheelchair. How could she look so serene when she could no longer use her legs to dance? I teared up a bit watching her.

I was so glad the drunk driver who killed Grandpa and paralyzed Grandma died in that accident as well, even though I knew my mother would admonish me for even thinking such a terrible thing. I wish I had been old enough to see my grandmother perform onstage.

***

Grandma and I had her bedroom TV on one night to watch a PBS showing of Don Quixote. 

She pointed at the screen. “Look at the dancer playing Basilio! I had such a crush on him. His name was Michael, and I desperately wanted to dance with him as Kitri to his Basilio, but I didn’t get that part.”

“Oh, he was handsome, Grandma! I can see why you had a crush on him.”

“That was before I met your grandfather. Once I saw him sitting in the front row of Cinderella with some of my friends, I never looked at anyone else again.” She sighed. “I miss him.”

Basilio and Kitri danced a short pas de deux before fading away later that night. Kitri’s black bodice and stiff red tutu sparkled in the moonlight coming through Grandma’s window. I wondered if Grandma saw them as I did—shimmering, surrounded by heavenly light as they spun on air around the room.

***

Mom, Dad, and I decorated the house and put up the Christmas tree while Grandma watched, letting us know when figurines on the mantel needed to be rearranged, or a string of lights had a burned-out bulb. Grandma used to live far away in Oregon, so this was the first time she spent the holiday with us. 

We made gingerbread cookies, watched my favorite specials like Rudolph, Frosty, Peanuts, and the one with Heat Miser and Cold Miser. I was twelve, too old to believe in Santa, but I still got a thrill of seeing him at the mall when Mom, Grandma, and I went shopping.

Christmas is my favorite holiday, and this year felt more special than usual. This year, Christmas was truly magical. I knew it was because of Grandma and her beautiful dancing dream ghosts.

On Christmas Night, after cleaning up the detritus of the day, and having a big turkey dinner with neighbors and friends, we all settled down to watch a PBS screening of The Nutcracker. When Clara appeared, Grandma excitedly grabbed my hand.

“Corinne, this is my Nutcracker! Where I dance as the Dewdrop Fairy!”

I squeezed her hand in response. “I’m so happy I get to see you dance, Grandma.”

I watched the Flowers flit into view, wearing long, lush pink skirts. Then Grandma ran from the side of the stage into the middle of the circle of dancers. As the French horns began to play, Grandma stood up, breathtaking in her short pink skirt. She danced, glided, leapt, and floated on the stage to the beautiful music of the strings, flutes, and woodwind instruments. 

In that moment in time, Grandma was the Dewdrop Fairy.

I looked at her. She swayed to the music with her eyes closed and a smile on her face. Mom and I glanced at each other, tears streaming down our faces. I had never seen anything so beautiful.

***

I helped Grandma into bed later that night. She didn’t usually need help getting out of her wheelchair, but I figured the emotions of the evening affected her.

I got in beside her. “I loved watching you perform, Grandma. You were amazing.”

“Thank you, Corinne. I’m so pleased you got to see it.”

“I’m happy you live with us too. It’s been great spending so much time with you.”

“I feel the same way, sweetheart.”

Grandma’s voice sounded different, a little hoarse, maybe. Like she was holding back tears or something. I decided to stop talking and let her go to sleep.

I was reading The Outsiders on my Kindle, a book my mom recommended to me. I had a bad feeling about Johnny, and anxiously read as fast as I could to get to the end.

The sound of cellos pulled my attention away from my reading. The Sugar Plum Fairy and her beloved dance their pas de deux, and I watch, my heart racing.

As they faded away, I heard familiar strings and flutes, and then Grandma was in front of me, dancing as the Dewdrop Fairy. My mouth dropped open. I had no idea Grandma could leave her own dream. I snuggled closer to her, watching her dip and twirl, shimmering and ethereal. 

But I moaned a quiet “oh, no” when I realized Grandma’s breathing had become shallow and ragged. I gently put my head on her chest, but her heartbeats slowed down until barely perceptible. I buried my face in Grandma’s neck, and let my tears come.

The music waned, and I looked up to see Grandpa with his hand out towards Grandma, a loving smile on his face. She took his hand, and together they danced a waltz as they slowly faded away.