The Inner ChildSNOWFLAKE BALL
by Jennifer Mally
Only a few short months ago, my step daughter, Becky, and I were rummaging around in the basement of my folks' home, looking for, you know, stuff -- little scraps from my childhood. Mom and Dad have been clearing away the clutter, God bless them, so there's not a whole lot left. But, we did happen to find one little jewel -- a scrapbook I put together in sixth grade.
There was one thing in there that I was particularly tickled with. It was a poem I had written at the age of 11…
Little fairies dancing,
Little fairies prancing,
Making snowflakes fall
At the midnight ball.
Swiftly and gently they fall from the sky
But when the day comes for them to die,
Look out your window the next night,
And maybe you'll see fairies, you know you just might.
Fast forward a few weeks, and you'll find me digging around in my home looking for holiday inspiration before starting on messages for this year's collection. I happened upon a small book of poetry I put together a few years ago for friends and family. Included in it was a poem I had written that year…A CHRISTMAS SONG
Snowflakes in their exquisite splendor
glisten with random highlights
as they gracefully fall from the sky,
a ballet of sugar fairies
dancing their way to the earth,
blanketing it with sweet butterfly kisses.
Christmas tree lights reflect from my window,
taking partners in the dance,
and whisper to me of Christmas' I've known
and those I've yet to.
Both tribute and promise,
the hazy reflection I see through a mist of curtain
sings to me in joyful tones…
It really strikes me how similar these two poems, written nearly two and a half decades apart, are. I think of all the undulating, never-ending, ever-changing, growing, falling, flying, laughing, crying, reaching, hiding moments I've experienced during that time, and it's comforting to discover that even with all that, the essence of who I am has remained the same.
We spend so much of our lives struggling to get through the day, struggling to understand who we are, what we're doing, why things happen, what we want out of this life, that we stop listening to the voice of that child inside. That voice lives in our hearts and is there as a reminder that we are precious and sweet and insightful and loving. That voice speaks only the truth and guides us with untarnished, ageless wisdom.
Listening to that voice has brought me here. And there's no other place I'd rather be.
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