My Mother's Rocking Chair

Many beautiful places around the world will always hold the hearts of those who visit them. These sights can steal the breath and inspire the mind. They can influence someone and change their lives. It is not one of those awe-inspiring places that influenced me the most, however. It was in my mother's lap, on her rocking chair.

It was in that rocking chair where I was first introduced to other worlds. It was in that rocking chair where she read to me of magic tree houses, of misty mountains, of big red dogs, of cats in hats, of magic wardrobes, and of glass slippers. I will never forget the adventures that I went on, the magic that I saw, the friends that I made, all while in that rocking chair. My mother would hold me close while lulling me into the back and forth motion of the chair. She would pull out a story and build universes around me that I had never known could exist.

One such story was The Twelve Dancing Princesses, as told by Marianna Mayer and illustrated by K. Y. Craft. It was not just the story that caught my imagination; it was also the gorgeous works of art that brought each step of the story to vivid life. Every page was filled with flowing gowns, gently sparkling in a golden forest, gorgeous tresses full of jewels and flowers, contrasts of light and dark brought about by the elegant use of chiaroscuro. I could never look away. Even as my mother would attempt to turn the page, I would hold her hand still and merely stare. My fingers would trace over the velvety flowers that I could almost smell, across the beautiful smiles and sparkling eyes of the princesses, and along the chilly surface of the black lake.

I was enthralled by such lovely sights and drawn into the mystery. What had happened to the princesses? Why did they disappear each night? Why were their dancing shoes worn to tatters each morning? I would grab my mother’s arm in suspense, even having heard the story dozens of times before. It was always such a relief to hear that the princesses were safe in the end and that all of them found true love.

It was in those moments that my love of dancing was born. Knowing that I was every bit of a princess like the ones in my book, I decided that I needed to learn how to dance as they did. As everyone knows, ballet is the preferred dance of princesses everywhere, and as such, I made it clear to my parents that it was a necessary part of my education. From then on, my life was full of music, poofy tutus, sparkles, and stage lights.

Even with time and maturity, nothing ever swayed my love of dancing. It was not enough to merely dance, however. My ultimate goal was to dance on pointe. Eventually, after hard work and dedication, I was able to reach that goal. Every time that I glided across the floor or lifted myself into seemingly impossible positions, I truly felt like a princess. In those moments, I felt like I could fly. It seemed as though my life was just like one of the fairytales my mother had read to me.

While I no longer dance in such a way, I still find magical moments happening in my day-to-day life. A flower will catch my eye, I will hear a strain of music, or see an elegant gown, and the thrill and beauty of the story that caught my imagination and passion as a child will be reignited. One can never know where stories will lead them or what will happen when the imagination is inspired and flights of fancy take wing. That is the type of magic of which I will never let go. That is the type of magic that I hope to pass on.