Reaching out her fingers, she softly touched the face of the free-spirited young child she had been oh so long ago. Observed her dancing, twirling sinuously around the room, her mother’s borrowed mantillas draped around her little shoulders or knotted over a hip. She had felt such freedom and hope in the power of love as she danced.
Blinking, she returned to the present and wondered when she had lost the audacity to be herself. She lovingly looked once more at the dancing tiny goddess she had been, residing now only in her mind’s eye and lit another cigarette staring out of the window at the gloomy city that had, like her, lost its light.
Shaharazade, S. (2017). Meant to be Here (1st ed.). New York.