If you wander over to my “About” tab, you will discover my “Princess” syndrome. I believe I was born with “Princess” in my spirit. As a little girl, sometimes I wondered if the stork dropped me off at the wrong house. It seemed to me I should be living in a castle and wearing beautiful flowing gowns. (I had a vivid imagination as a child.) 🙂
My favorite fairytale was Cinderella. What a magical story it is. My favorite part is when she gets to go to the ball and is adorned with a beautiful gown for dancing the night away with Prince Charming. Most days, I was either pretending to be a princess or pretending to be a ballerina. Cancans with stiff tulle were popular in the 60s. That was the closest thing I could find to a tutu in my closet. I had a few of these cancans in different colors so had a change of costume when my imagination would take me to an acclaimed theatre dance floor and I would be the star of the featured event (which happened to be in a back bedroom with the door shut when no one was paying attention).
You might ask: why didn’t you simply take ballet lessons? Well, I was born with a few physical issues from difficulty in childbirth that required surgery as an infant and then again at the age of six. My loving mother limited my physical activities during those early years to avoid further injury. So I would “sneak” and pretend to be a ballerina in my own world. I had a grand time – pretending.
As I grew in stature, my physical limitations diminished; but the dancing princess dream eluded me throughout my lifetime – childhood, teen hood, young adulthood, and motherhood. But guess what? As I was approaching empty-nester hood, I finally tasted a little bit of that dream.
The year was 2008. It had been an emotional year. I was spellbound by a beautiful waltz on Jim Brickman’s Escape CD. I listened to it over and over again – the piano and violin combination took me to another place where I could escape. I imagined a story, even though the song was strictly instrumental.
There once was a beautiful maiden who wanted to be a princess. She enjoyed her days dancing through the garden. A young man, a prince, pursued her. At first she was not interested until he beckoned her to dance. Reluctantly she accepted. They danced, and she fell in love. They had a glorious time together until he became disenchanted and began avoiding her. Then she pursued him, and he pushed her away. Ultimately, he walked away leaving her alone in the garden where he found her.
Well, this was just an imagination – a self-made fairytale, minus the happily ever after – that I replayed in my head every time I listened to Winter Waltz. I shared this story with a dance teacher who choreographed my interpretation and imagination (Reflections, Chapter 16). With his help, this princess finally had her day, center stage.
Don’t give up on your dream. It could happen!
I once knew a girl, a princess she wanted to be,
That day finally came at about the age of fifty,
The dance was the waltz, and it is here you will see: