As all the weight of her slight frame settled into the glass slipper and she lifted her other foot, ready to place it gently and easily into the other slipper, spotless, shimmering, transparent...pure, she was suddenly falling to the floor. Glass shattered and scattered in all directions. As she fell to one side her hands landed in the shards littering the wood floor. He watched her fall, it seemed, in slow motion. Running to her side, he reached for her shoulders, "Are you alright?" A stupid question he thought. Her hands and foot were clearly going to need stitches. Blood was everywhere, smeared all around her. Her ivory gown was like a dressing for her wounds, soaking up the dark red liquid. Her head was bent and her whole body shaking, probably in shock he thought as he reached for her chin. She grabbed his outstretched hand and looked at him, a wide grin on her face. He stared into her eyes, the color of deep, dark pools he always longed to swim in. And she continued to shake with laughter. "Hold still. We're going to have to get you to a hospital." Why was she laughing?
"I'm okay," she took a deep breath and smiled at him. He looked at her, uncertain. "I mean, clearly I'm not okay," and she winced as she lifted her hands for the air quotes, "but I'm okay, in here." Blood began to spread across the breast of her gown as she placed her hand over her heart.
"I don't understand," he was waiting for the tears and realization of her injuries to sink in. She reached for his face and he did not back away. She seemed to realize for the first time how bloody she was. "I'm sorry," and she quickly withdrew her hand.
"It's okay," he smiled. "We need to get you to a hospital." And he began to rise from his knees to head toward the phone, but she grabbed for him, crying out in pain, but refusing to let go. "I'm right here, I'm right here," he soothed, rubbing her shoulders.
"I need to explain," she said. He stopped and waited. He knew her, how stubborn she was. There was no point arguing. The sooner she let it out, the sooner he could call an ambulance. He had no idea how badly her foot was injured...
"I'm free."
He waited. She breathed and smiled.
"I'm free!" she exclaimed more loudly, so he was forced to lean back on the balls of feet.
"I still don't understand."
She waited and it looked like she was trying to find words.
"Cinderella was never meant to wear glass slippers. There's no such thing as the fairy tale." Again she looked at him and smiled. "There's just you and me and the imperfection is the perfection," she reached for the unbroken slipper, now coated with blood along the bottom and spattered across the top, "don't you see?" she asked holding the slipper out to him.
"I don't," he admitted, "but we have the rest of our lives for you to explain it to me and you need to get to a hospital. I can't believe you're not in agony yet."
She sighed and seemed to release something. Then she looked at him with tears in her eyes. "It is starting to hurt," she whispered.
"I know," he brushed her cheek and stood.
She watched him run quickly to the phone in his black tuxedo. He had probably cut his knees up, she worried. But he would be okay. And so would she. And she did have the rest of their lives. Happily and imperfectly ever after, she smiled :-)

He had signed the papers. I remember they were blue, though so many other things from that time escape me. I remember the sun was still out. He was sitting on my stoop, signing angrily. I don’t know how he felt really. I could only go on my interpretation of his actions. He never really shared much with me.

I remember that I hoped we could talk. I loved him so much. It wasn’t real love of course; only what a sixteen year old knows. But I didn’t know that.

He handed me the papers and got up to leave. I was shocked. Couldn’t we talk? Wasn’t he the only one who understood? I was so alone.

“Please,” I begged him. I don’t remember if I was crying. He ignored me. I now imagine that this was very hard for him-- he was only seventeen.

He ignored my arms trying desperately to make him stop. Please, I need you. I can’t do this…

Looking back now I wonder if he had imagined us a family. If his heart was broken by the decision I was making. All I knew then was that I wanted him. I wanted him to hold me, to love me…to tell me that everything was going to be fine.

I remember falling; down to my knees I think. I tried to hold on to his calf, but it slipped through my fingers. I sat there, on the front lawn, and I cried. He got into his car and drove away.

After that, there is darkness.

Is it common among writers, to be inspired in the wee hours of the morning? ;-)

A Rainbow on a Cloudy Day

I want to be a rainbow in your clouds :-)
Because I've had so many rainbows on cloudy days, cloudy moments....CLOUDY MONTHS! ;-)
And I appreciate them. More than those rainbow-givers will ever know :-)

And I want to give myself over to something bigger than myself each day, before I walk out the door.

Not because I don't trust myself. Not because I don't think my life is worth living without doing so.

Because I want to remember how insignificant I am. In this world full of people, I am one. And I want to be able, as only one small person, to make a huge difference.

How can I do that alone?

I can't.

And if I remember that I am not perfect; that I need help; that I will continue to learn and grow until the day I leave this earth and, most importantly, that the same goes for everyone else...I will be free.

So I will freely give out rainbows. And when I make mistakes, I will remember that the people around me, are rainbow-givers too :-) And I will smile.

Thank you Oprah and Maya Angelou

I feel, as an adult, most of my cloudy days come from guilt. From mistakes I have made, words I have spoken, things I have done, that I cannot take back. I dwell on them and they eat me alive from the inside.
That's why I feel it's so important for me, to focus on my intentions and the people around me. And I know that both are good :-) to the core.
So I have to let that guilt go...

My beauty lies in what I can create

These bruises you've given us...they will fade
These cuts on our cheeks...they will close
These bones that you've broken...they will mend
These physical scars...they will heal

But this...this part of us that you have stolen...

we want to be strong. We want to roar! We want to heal!

But this...this place...

You have taken something from us that we can't get back.

We don't know if this will heal.

We cry out in rage and then break down in desperation.

We would prefer death.

My ancestors before me

My parents

My brother

My cousins

My children

My friends

Me

Deep breath

Me

Deep breath

Me...

I must travel with Charon.

No fear.

How can there be fear? They will be there to greet me.

And I will be there...to embrace them :-)