The coughing was wearing, and she was tired as she walked slowly back to her bed. Pulling her housecoat closely to what had become a frail and thin body. She had been battling congestive heart disease now for years. Lying sleeping in the bed was her husband of a lifetime, listening to him breathe; she quietly laid her head back on the pillow. As she opened her eyes, she saw the misty silver light of the full moon spotlight her side of the bed. The familiar full moon had become her friend, her symbol of solace. It always reminded her of the covenant made so long ago.
She found herself back some 78 years before, in the past of pain and heartache of a little 2nd grade girl. A little girl who was born crippled, but defied the doctors and learned to walk. Her long black curly hair draped around her shoulders with a quiet disposition. It was spring, with all the anticipations summer would bring.
The rural school gathered at the end of the school year for the annual school play. No one was left out; from the 1st grade to the 12th grade, all participated. It was an event everyone looked forward to, even the parents who would anxiously await the final curtain for the year. This year was no different — the participation was full and the play was being practiced on a regular basis through the school schedule building into a crescendo of excitement. It was now the Wednesday before the Friday night’s performance.
Agatha had watched her mother make the beautiful red dress. She had been chosen as one of the fairies. The excitement came from practicing over and over again the dance she had so come to love. Her Mother had made a beautiful red dress and the dress was going to make it even more wonderful.
Then it happened, what felt like a tornado of the spirit as her father walked in the room where she was trying on her dress.
“You aren’t going to wear that, and you aren’t going to show yourself on that stage in front of everyone,” he ripped out.
She stood there, knowing she couldn’t say anything for fear of further repercussions.
Her Mother turned to her and said, “Take the dress to school tomorrow, and maybe someone else can wear it, since you won’t be able to dance.”
The next day Agatha took her dress to school and gave it to her teacher. Her tears welled so full inside they would spring for a lifetime as she sat in the back of the auditorium watching the rest of the school practice all day that Thursday.
The following day, true to his word, her father made her stay home the night of the class recital. Where does a little girl go when her heart was breaking and her dress being worn by another?
The house became busy and her three older brothers were talking and keeping everyone’s attention. It was then she slipped outside, far enough from the house no one could see her. The moon was full and the night sky with all the constellations were her audience, as she began to dance, and dance she did with all her heart, her dance, under the full moon again and again, she danced. The pain would always be resident inside the little curly black hair child that danced that night under the spring’s full moon and the star-lit sky.
The little girl, now frail and oh-so-many years older laying next to her husband, she looked up to the full moon and smiled. She was reminded of the little girl whom she knew so well, and for whom she wept, yet in her heart was still dancing.
Two years ago, October 26, 2011, Mother passed; it changed my life forever—
( It was a night of a New Moon)
© CMM 2011