Celebrate

4,000 miles away, my sister is finishing up her senior year of college. Oh how I wish I could be there to watch her walk across the stage on Saturday. I'm so proud of her! I wish I could be there to celebrate with her in person. Instead, I'm an ocean away and trying to find ways to help her celebrate long-distance.

Celebrate. It's the theme of an e-card I sent to my sister this morning. When I saw the word "celebrate," the lyrics to a song popped into my head. "Celebrate good times, come on!" I don't even know the whole song or who sang it, but the memory of that song was solidly planted in my mind as a kindergartner - it was the theme of my first dance recital.

Yes, a kindergartner. At my first (of only two) dance recitals. A tiny kindergartner with dark straight (well, as straight as my hair has ever been) hair, dressed in purple tulle and gold sequins. (It WAS the 80s, folks. But that's not as bad as the florescent pink and turquoise poodle-skirted theme attire the next year.) I'm sorry to disappoint you, but all pictures of this kindergartner are at my parents' house, across an ocean.

This memory of myself intrigues me. Because I don't remember feeling any fear. Which is HIGHLY unusual for me. There is videographic evidence of this lack of fear. This video would reveal to you a side of me that has rarely existed - one that has rhythm and one that does not show fear.

I was shy as a youngster. When my parents sent me off to kindergarten, they were afraid I wouldn't talk to anyone. Well, they were wrong. At least eventually. You see, by fourth grade I
was getting in trouble for talking without raising my hand. (One of the few poignant memories I have of fourth grade is that my teacher taught me - as well as the rest of my classmates - to be polite.)

Why am I rambling about childhood memories, you might ask? Because most of those memories contain some element of fear. But not the sequin-attired child. Why was she fearless? Or was she fearful but doesn't remember the fear?.............