When I was a little girl, I was often found singing or dancing, or choreographing an elaborate stage show that only existed in my head. I'd make lists of guests, plot out where the stage would go, cast friends for important roles and dream about the bundles of perfumey flowers I would get at the end of the performance.
I never did get to see any of these shows to fruition.
One summer I allowed my friend Jessica in on my idea. To my surprise, she was an enthusiastic supporter and decided that she would like to help. Planning began immediately.
In her dark, cold basement playroom, we sat for hours reading story after story trying to determine which one would make the best play. Finally, "The Shoemaker & The Elves" by the Brothers Grimm was the winner.
I've always been enamored with elves and fairies and all things mystical and impish. So a story about tiny elves who sneak into a poor shoemakers shop to help him make shoes was right up my alley.
Reams of clean, white paper quickly filled up with our modified version of the story-a version that had stage notes and prop ques, and our friends as the elves.
Again, my mind wandered, and I was enveloped into a world of costumes, lights, and glamour. I even though we could sell tickets.
Days went by and Jessica and I grew nervous as we built up the courage to ask our parents if we could actually put on our play. Armed only with our ideas and our enthusiasm, we marched our way to our eventual demise.
Both sets of parents were clearly impressed with our hard work and creativity. What parents know, however, is how much money it costs to build a stage and that not many people will pay to see a play put on my elementary school children-especially when it's in their backyard.
So, just as quickly as it began, our dream of becoming famous playwrights and actresses retreated into our little souls, waiting until the day would come when stages cost less money, and when people would come just because...
Pretty Pwease?
