Monday, February 9, 2009

Tiny Dancer

It's 1912, but feels much closer to 1890. I was six years old - and the world was much bigger then. I have to remind myself that I'm in the present. It hurts so much to realize that truth.

When the wind whips through this gossamer wool - I try to remember Papa and the warmth of his embrace. I can still smell the sweet earthy tobacco that filled my senses when he would laugh. "Nadia! Nadia! Show that dance again!" Papa would boast to his friends about my ability to mesmerize with my movements. He would say that when I danced, it was as if the Sugar Plum faeries and the whispering winds would stop to see such flowing joy.

But it is not 1890 - it is 1912. I came to Luxembourg to dance. It seems that the world hurts too much to show any emotion. The days are dark and cold. Many go away never to return. I am in Luxembourg - but when I dance, I'm at home with Mama and Papa - it is 1890.

Nadia Gottlieb


Mrsupole said...

Okay, that was witty. Some where. Some time.

Got to you from Willow, so just wanted to leave what me and Ronda from Ronda's Wonderland call "presents". The first comment is anyway, after that they are just comments.

I have started theme's for my blogsite this week and up till now I would just post when I felt a need to post. Now that I have theme's, I am giving myself a daily challenge to meet every week.

I will start at the "beginning" when I read your story on your other blog page.

Nice to meet you. God Bless.

Pearl said...

That was very sweet. And sad.