The Dancing Shoes

that girl,

Watch that scene,
Digging the dancing Queen”A song of the eighties, so befitting the young girl, as her lithe body moved smoothly, gracefully across the stage, her feet telling a story of its own, in true perfection of dance. Her performance won her a standing ovation and she smiled exulted, as she bowed and waved to the audience.
It was truly a unique gift, that in dance one can tell a story that arouses emotion, bringing tears to the eyes for the heavenly bliss of a body`s sublime movement coupled with music, sweet and beautiful touches the mind in wonderment. Tyra left the dance theatre late that night, after two more performances. She was tired, but happy, happy for her success, happy to know she was doing what she loved so much. Dancing she felt was an inheritance from God and because she believed so much in heaven and the beauty of life, she had followed her heart, wanting always to be a part of this divine art. Her grandmother had told her when at five Tyra had won a junior dance competition,
“Dance because you love it, dance because of the passion in your heart and dance because you believe in it, it’s you.”

“Dance because you love it, dance because of the passion in your heart and dance because you believe in it, it’s you.”
Those words over the years had been her mentor and when her grandmother was called away to God’s home, she had left for her a pair of dancing shoes that she had said can do magic, but only when you truly need it to. Tyra had kept it as her most treasured gift, not knowing if one day in her life she would need magic.
One day, just for the fun of it, she joined a few of her friends to walk home from High School, rather than wait on the bus, a little bit of adventure they said, because it was a somewhat long walk. They waved to strangers passing in their vehicles, said pleasant ‘hellos’ to those passing by, laughing and chatting on their way home and was unaware of the red car coming at a deadly speed behind them.The screeching of tyres on the paved road alerted them to the impeding danger and dropping their books, the girls ran to safety, but Tyra petrified did not move fast enough and screamed as the red car bore down on her and the last thing she remembered was excruciating pain in her legs.
From somewhere in the distance, she heard soft crying, but it was hazy and she could not seem to find her way to that sound, then a thin ray of light appeared and grew brighter. Tyra opened her eyes and saw her mother sitting by her side crying.
“Mom,” she whispered softly
“Oh!” Her mother cried out in absolute relief. “You’re back, my darling.”
It took a while for Tyra to recollect what had happened-the speeding car, being hit and thrown and the terrible pain in her legs. She was now lying in a hospital, badly hurt, almost helpless all because of a little adventure to walk home. Her friends were in shock and her family deeply distressed, but it was a blessing, the doctor said, that she was alive at all. The car had hit and thrown her a good distance, but fortunately, she had landed in a heap of newly cut shrubs that saved her body from broken bones, but some pieces of jagged shrub had torn the flesh on her legs badly. The pain she felt in her heart was worse than she felt in her body and she asked her mother, tearfully,
“Will I ever dance again?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” her mother reassured her, though in her heart she knew she may be lying. “You will dance again. The doctor said corrective surgery will repair the damage, but the healing will take some time.”
Dancing was what she loved, what she believed in, but, now, as she lay in that dim room, dreams seemed lost. A blessed gift was snatched from her at such a young age. Will she be able to win it back?
The weeks and months seemed to roll into one and Tyra left the hospital in a wheel chair, sad and worried. But she held on to her dreams and months later, she was walking and practicing her dance steps. It took her longer than expected to follow the dance routine and she just couldn’t get it right. Her dancing had lost its perfection, but the passion in her heart was still alive and she continued to practice, to believe, to love. She returned to the stage, but the flaw, not fully corrected, was still there. What could she now do?
That summer came the break of a lifetime. A dance company from overseas was holding auditions to recruit young, aspiring dancers for Broadway shows. It would be for her a dream come true and Tyra wasn’t going to lose the opportunity. She was advised not to, but she knew it was a chance she had to take. At the backstage as she waited her turn, she took out the dancing shoes her grandmother had given her and put them on.
“I tried with my heart and soul, all I could, but I just can’t regain what I lost, now, I need your magic to win back my unique gift.”
Her name was called and she walked on stage, knowing for her and for all those close to her it was now or never. Her body graceful and poised flowed with the music as her feet told the story of a young girl and her dreams in dance, divine and magical. A standing ovation and tears in the eyes of the judges at the end of the number, won back for her, her blessed gift to follow her dreams.
The dancing shoes had worked their magic, when she most needed it.