You know, I've always wanted a daughter... a son, not so much, but a daughter, definitely. This was once again brought front and center a couple of weeks ago at church. The youth worship dance team performed a gorgeous dance and there was this one girl who drew my eye -- and I couldn't stop watching her. She was a beautiful dancer and I saw so much potential in her. When they were done with their dance, my heart was just so full of longing for a daughter -- one who might take after me with her talents, but not my fears.
When I was a young girl, I took dance lessons... I was pretty good at it... I LOVED it... and eventually, my dance teacher recommended that I move on to a more advanced studio. I did... and then moved again through an audition to THE best school in the area -- what is now the Virginia Academy of Ballet. I started in a class with girls my age and within the first two months, was advanced to another class -- with girls much older than I was. I didn't know all of the French words for the steps, so I watched others and imitated what they did. My mom was also bedridden at the time due to a serious back surgery... and my poor dad just couldn't get my hair into the requisite bun every Saturday morning. I recall being so embarrassed because my hair wasn't properly done... I was a very sensitive child.
At any rate, my instructor -- a former professional ballet dancer, who had turned to eating and was now a rotund, pernicious troll -- would walk the barre and kick, demean and embarrass dancer after dancer, attempting to get the best from them. I simply did not have the strength to endure this kind of punishment and so began to feign illness to escape. I was such a shy and timid child... I simply did not recognize my own abilities. To this very day, I have the spirit of a dancer inside me... the feeling of moving the body through space with grace and elegance draws me... even more than my love of music...
But I digress... back to the longing for a daughter. Perhaps it's best that I don't have one... poor dear would be the unwitting recipient of a stage mom who dares to live out her own dreams through her daughter... not to mention the fact that I've just started a new career where the paychecks are few and far between and the fact that my marriage is on a pendulous journey between two extremes. I suppose that Kahlil Gibran's statement about children rings true... that they are "life's longing for itself."
Methinks that forty will be a year of acceptance of dreams unrealized and hopes set free.
1 comment:
aw Lauren - my God I wish you'd post more. I love the way you write. Your ballet story was so sad. It's too bad that wretched dance teacher didn't see the whole person and not just the dance steps. Your timidness might have been recognized and concessions made for it. It's almost as if your spirit, at that time, was broken. So sad. And I feel bad for your dad, not being able to get your hair right. But I do understand. If you could see Hannah's hair after Gary has done it (very few and far between). I say "what have you done to her??" Barrettes and such are so tiny and akward for large hands to maneuver.
Keep writing my friend - you certainly have a way with words that I envy!
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