Sunday, April 16, 2006
First Years
I can only remember as far back as when I was three years old. And I have only one memory of when I was three. I can still see my little self - a scrawny, chinky-eyed, all legs and arms post-toddler . . .
It was maybe some thirty minutes before bedtime that night . . . I was wearing an over-sized white t-shirt and performing before an enraptured audience. My mother was there, my aunt was there, my maternal grandparents were there. I vaguely remember my siblings being there (I had one older brother and one older sister). I was going through those little dance motions that only three-year-olds can do - - - definitely not a structured dance, but very cute and winning, anyway. I can only think for that three-year old now, not knowing what really was in my little head then. But I am most certain that , I was dancing like Isadora Duncan (or so I thought) because I had such an appreciative and encouraging audience. Even now, I can feel the caring attention and love of everybody in that room. They were all applauding, prompting me for encores. They had only loving words for me - those cute little endearments older people always have for their adorable diminutive pets? I loved it. Being the center of attention, that is.
There was a lot of love from people in my home as I was growing up. Was it enough? Is love ever enough?
It was maybe some thirty minutes before bedtime that night . . . I was wearing an over-sized white t-shirt and performing before an enraptured audience. My mother was there, my aunt was there, my maternal grandparents were there. I vaguely remember my siblings being there (I had one older brother and one older sister). I was going through those little dance motions that only three-year-olds can do - - - definitely not a structured dance, but very cute and winning, anyway. I can only think for that three-year old now, not knowing what really was in my little head then. But I am most certain that , I was dancing like Isadora Duncan (or so I thought) because I had such an appreciative and encouraging audience. Even now, I can feel the caring attention and love of everybody in that room. They were all applauding, prompting me for encores. They had only loving words for me - those cute little endearments older people always have for their adorable diminutive pets? I loved it. Being the center of attention, that is.
There was a lot of love from people in my home as I was growing up. Was it enough? Is love ever enough?
