Lead & Follow

Étendre

Part 1: Lead

Second Movement, Étendre

"Étendre [ay-TAHN-druh] means “to stretch” and describes the stretching of the toe, ankle, and knee, resulting in the ballet aesthetic of a straight leg with a pointed toe."

(From "The Seven Movements of Dance")

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You stretch your body upwards, and crane your neck to see around the emerald monolith that is your childhood best friend.

The jolly green giant and his father chatter idly amongst themselves in an obvious attempt at feigning distraction, but you know the truth. They are just as insatiably curious as you are as you set your sights upon the vibrant, mustard yellow taxi which pulls to a stop across the street. 

You feel a bit annoyed by the opaque tint of its windows, and wonder impatiently when your snooping will pay off. 

"Look," Cove whispers to you with a discreet nudge to your shoulder, and you watch with bated breath as the back passenger door is unceremoniously thrown open.

The figure which emerges is unexpected, and you turn to your companions excitedly, " A kid?"

But your assessment is rife with hyperbole; It's not a kid, really. Though you find him fairly youth adjacent when you compare his visual age to the previous tenants of the condo across the way.

Sunset Bird was a small coastal town with residents more transient than long-lasting. Most of your neighborhood was filled with retired couples, and so the local youth population left much to be desired.

Your friend group was small, but precious. For most of your adolescent years you had little more in the way of age-appropriate company than Cove and your older-sister, Elizabeth.

Thus, the street in which the two of you–and his dear old dad–currently stood were your domain, your well-traversed stomping grounds.

You knew all of your neighbors, and that the condo out your window was forbidden territory. The former owners, a miserable elderly couple your sister had so charitably coined, "the mean grandparents," were practically the antagonist of every happy memory you had of your childhood. 

But–the person which has emerged from this unfamiliar car, was decidedly not them. And it hits you with full force that this is no longer the Sunset Bird of your youth. 

This Sunset Bird is a place marred by unsteady waters, and always changing. You are older now, and many people have come and gone from your life. 

Elizabeth has gone off to college, childhood friends have grown distant or moved away, and, for better or worse, the "mean grandparents" had long since moved away.

The male that appears across the street is decidedly handsome, and you find yourself wondering if there is something more than just unfamiliar in the waters of this town. It seems like beautiful people are drawn to this place like flies to honey, you think as you fondly recall the faces of precious family and friends.

You realize, with more than a little embarrassment, that it's more likely a result of your hometown's status as a hidden-gem "tourist destination."

Even as you have reached the grand finale of your teenage years, you find that the habit of viewing the world through youthful sea glass is hard to shake.

"I'm out of time," Mr. Holden, the blonde beach enthusiast and doting father of your best friend, laments as he leans in closer to you and Cove. "At least I caught a glimpse."