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Short stories: Dancing

by Cherrie Palmer

Created on: November 12, 2008   Last Updated: April 13, 2012

Ballerina's and Morning Glories

"Good morning, Mother." Stated the five-year-old. As she danced out of bed fully dressed in her lace leotard, tights and tiara. Toes extended and arms framed she twisted and plead down the hall to breakfast. Out of no where she began the tale of how ballerinas are born.

"Did you know while you were sleeping at night a host of angels would let themselves into our home, my own angel would rub your tummy as she whispered my name and ever so gently kiss your forehead. Leaving a light residue of heavenly dust behind. Leaving you with a radiant glow. Night after night she did this until the night of my birth.

On that night my angel came to the house as always and then returned to heaven to greet me. Heavens own Prince introduced me to the evening stars that whispered in my ear. Telling me how to make the peoples eyes twinkle as I dance. Then I met the peaceful East Wind. Also whispering in my ear. Telling me the secret of gliding on air. It tickled my soul and made me feel light as a cloud. A faint chorus could be heard that caused me to leap to my feet. I danced and moved like a dandelion, floating on air, landing in a field of flowers.

I set in the field of Morning Glories thinking how I will miss this holly place. As God's own Morning Star whispered to me my true name and told me of loves true meaning. I could feel his love warm my face. With a kiss on the forehead, He reminded me to hold dear the pure heart I had been given. I turned to marvel at the gifts my new friends had given. Mariah, my angel ever true gently guided me. As the light from the night stars and the refreshing east wind delivered me to your waiting arms and that Mother, is how ballerinas are born."

With that said the mother's eyes glazed over. She kissed Peyton on the forehead and remembered all of her own childhood days of dance. How the music and soul seemed to flow across the stage using her feet as a conduit. The joy it gave. A joy that ran straight down to her toes. It is a passion she carries even to this day. She gazed out the kitchen window as the East Wind was stirring up fall leaves and carried them in an early morning dance. She marveled at the twinkle in Peyton's eyes and though the woman's years of knowing, knew the story to be just a childhood tale. The twinkle in her eye bid her to wonder just a little.

Written for, Peyton Marie Palmer born 07-18-2008

Learn more about this author, Cherrie Palmer.
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