|Venus and The Sailor, 1925, by Salvador Dali|
In her youth, she'd dance for hours, singing along with the songs of her generation. Her movements were fluid, vigorous and soulful. There were no standard "dance moves" attached to this life force... just the motion. It was wild and impulsive.
Then a kind of discipline crept into her world. Just a hint here and there at first.
Small bits of routine began to expand into a daily grind. A paycheck to be generated. Housework to attend to. A husband who somehow guided her thoughts away from the music.
Before she knew what happened, she stopped hearing the music. Her body forgot how to move. Injuries took away her muscle memory. A heaviness invaded her soul.
Then there was silence. The deep, pervasive silence that signals a kind of death. The silence that winter brings.
Yet she wasn't ready to give up. She did what she had to do. She gave up the job, the housework, the husband.
Now she awaits a new spring. And still hopes for one last dance.
* * * * * * * * *
Tess over at Willow Manor has been providing inspiration for bloggers with her photo prompts on a site called Magpie Tales. Be sure to check out the other fabulous writers participating in Magpie Tales this week. You'll be glad you did!