I was Ballerina Once

I was a ballerina once, long, long ago. The sky was either blue or rain, the ground was green or snow. I was a ballerina once, with hair down past my knees, silky soft and curly too, at least I felt it so. I was a ballerina once, in the pinkest shoes I knew, I also wore my Mickey socks as well with the cutest bow. I was a ballerina once and the crowd cheered loud and long, while they sat in all our dining chairs, lined neatly in a row. I was a ballerina once my tutu couldnt be found, so I used my silky dressy slip and was so pretty just the same. I was a ballerina once, even though my brother laughed. I spun and bowed and walked tippy toe, so proud of what I was. I was a ballerina once when the sky was bluest blue, I was a ballerina once when when all my dreams were new. I was a ballerina once, that once so long ago, I miss that little piece of me, that never got to grow.
~ written by Susannah Allen

Crookedness

What is wrong with being crooked?. …..Why do lines need to be so straight? Roads are never straight, they meander along the rivers and homes that lay upon the ground. The road simply travels amongst what lays. Straight lines are not a product of nature, rivers, streams, and the earth itself is round. Plants never grow in straight lines, they pop up wherever they want. Even the earth takes its toll on what we build, time and age are the natural processes that remove our linear lines and create graceful curves in the roofs of the homes we build, gentle dips appear in floors as they age, and yet we remain attracted to straightness, control and linear appearances in everything.Why must I make my life so linear?

Quilting is linear and precise but I like my quilting crooked….or at least straight lines lain in crooked directions.Lines that head to who knows where , meeting up with other lines ..or not.
How many times I have headed out and changed my direction, like Robert, I headed where I saw no steps…and when of the mind, I took a turn …or two…. and found myself here. Each arbitrary turn or change brings us to a new place, passing those who follow their own paths into their own unknown.
Where willl tomorrow take me? What lies beyond the very next bend? Maybe something extrordinary, maybe something boring, maybe something more painful than I have known before. If I am afraid I can always stop and sit awhile in this place in which I find myself for now, for knowing it makes me feel safe….and once I have rested here, my fear may subside and once again I will rise and take steps in a new direction and become the person those turns create. I may embrace who I become or find myself in grief for who I use to be.