Tiny Dancer

She used to dance all over the house. She rarely walked...just twirled, and leapt and sashayed. When I would get exasperated and say, 'just walk!', she would gracefully spread her arms and do ballet walks in first position down the hallway. Her joy was the dance. She danced for no one but herself. It was not about the audience, or performance, or putting on airs. It was an expression of her innermost being. Where did that go? That little girl is in there still somewhere. I know it. What part of life hid that lightness of being in her? I fear I was part of it. I regret it...so much. I want to help her find it again but I don't know how. I would give anything for her to be able to dance her way through life again.