I Am My Father's Princess

It was my fave time of the day. Dinner was over, the dishes were done. My father would make his way to the corner of our small living room. And the anticipation would mount as he sat on the wooden chair turn on the radio and pick his fave radio station. As the music began, he'd nod at me and the dance would begin. Round and round the small living room I'd dance, no longer a four-year-old with skinned knees and pigtails. Round and round I'd twirl. My hair came loose; my father's eyes twinkled. And I knew that I could do and be anything that I could imagine. Because I was, after all, a princess.

That Girl In Me

There's something about that stringy little wisp of hair that gets stuck in my mouth when I'm running. When I was a child I remember racing through a field in a white flower-girl dress. It was weeks after the wedding, the bride was long gone, the guests had gone home, the tent was down, but the dress was going strong. With my heart racing, I put one scuffed, white, patent leather shoe in front of the other. The dandelions became my audience; the wind my band. And those little pieces of soggy hair were proof that beauty isn't about appearance, it's about the experience.

Climbing Hills

IGNITING the SPARK for MY NEXT GREAT ADVENTURE

In your memory there is a snapshot of a girl on an unstoppable  mission to invent, create, take risks, and have fun!