Welcome Fellow Campaigners!!

I'm participating in the Platform Building Campaign. If you're a fellow campaigner stopping by, make sure to leave me a comment if you follow me so that I can find you. Sometimes there's not a link in your profile on the GFC so I don't have a way to figure out where you came from. I'm looking forward to meeting everyone and to reading your posts!!

Monday, May 16, 2011

When I Grow Up- Indie Ink

My weekly Indie Ink writing challenge. I must say I am loving these challenges. They are forcing me out of my comfort zones and making me flex my writing muscles which I love. I also am reading some amazing people and learning so much. This week will be my first nonfiction submission.  My challenge this week came from Joelyn. The challenge was to finish this sentence, "When I was younger I wanted to grow up to be....and then share why and what you have become today. I challenged Dili. You can read his reply here


When I was younger I wanted to grow up to be a dancer, but not just any dancer. No pole was going to suit my dreams. I wanted to dance in the Alvin Ailey dance theatre. From the time I could walk, I started dancing. Dance was my escape from reality. It was the one thing that was all mine. The one thing that no one could take from me. I never told anyone of my dreams. I never allowed anyone to see how naturally talented I was. It was mine and as long as I kept it a secret, then it would remain mine.

I use to sneak off into the woods with my 80's silver boombox. I would turn the music up loud and then I would fly. That is what it felt like when I danced. I felt free, alive, clean. I would spend hours back there in solitude, flying. When darkness forced me to find my way back down to the earth, I would close my eyes and dream of soaring high up in the sky. 

However, like many other things in my life, my dream was to be taken from me. In a single moment, it ceased to exist. It was ripped from my grasp. Even though I tried to deny that it had been stolen from me, a part of me knew. A part of me knew that it was gone and nothing I could do would ever bring it back. 

I often wonder if the other driver knows that she committed murder that day. Simply because she thought herself too important to stop at the stop sign. Even though my dance existed only within me, I grieved its loss the way one grieves the passing of dear loved one. I remember lying in the hospital bed watching PBS tears streaming down my face. I had been waiting for this special for weeks, but now it was bittersweet to watch. When the nurse came in, I pretended to be in pain. Even though my dream had died, I still did not want anyone to touch it. Their touch would taint it and it was the one thing in my life that was pure. I wanted it to remain pure. 

Eventually I would learn to walk again even though my left leg is now permanently shorter than my right. Although I will never dance again; whenever a song comes on the radio, I close my eyes and fly.


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