Since her surprise six-weeks-early arrival and tenuous
beginnings, I’ve watched my friend’s daughter grow in beautiful, overt yet
subtle, often inspiring ways. I’ve watched from the distance of a few miles,
through the stories, worries and discoveries of her mom, through a genuine and
ongoing friendship between this girl and my daughter, through tears, with
pride, with hope. I’ve
watched. Enjoyed. Treasured.
Her mom could brag about her all she wants (though she
doesn’t do so often enough) and I would be happy to hear every minute detail.
Perhaps this explains the tears in my eyes as I watched her
dance the lead in a local ballet production of The Velveteen Rabbit.
She danced with precision and with joyful abandon, with rich expression
and with exuberance. This
beautiful young woman who spent much of her second year of life walking on her
tiptoes, worrying her mom. Now
dancing en pointe elegantly.
She found a way to connect deeply with what is true in the
character and what is true in herself and to portray these so vividly that we
in the multi-aged audience could ignore all distractions and smile through
tears at the beauty and truth of it all.
Did I mention her dancing with abandon? Such wild beauty. Vivid, alive, enchanting, especially
when she danced as the “real” rabbit.
Now she is sixteen, on the cusp of independence, equipped to
drive with license, practice and
common sense. She already seems far more
real than most adults I know.
But like her fictional counterpart, she’ll face difficult
times on her journey to truly becoming real. She’ll likely doubt herself, as others who are less real put
on airs and boast about their bells and whistles and modern ideas, as they
dance circles around her, seeming to eclipse her beauty and talent. They will “boast and swagger [but]
by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away.”
This young rabbit, though, she will indeed become real. I have no doubt about that. Her “beautiful velveteen fur [will
get] shabbier and shabbier, and [her] tail [will become] unsewn, and all the
pink rubbed off her nose” by people who will love her and need her.
She might not even notice it happening, until one day she
will run and jump and play as only a real rabbit can. Less energetically than she does now, perhaps, but
with deep and undeniable beauty and truth. She will bring much warmth and goodness and love to this
world and she will dance – oh how she will dance – with rich expression and
abandon.
And I, her mother’s friend, will smile and cheer through
tear-filled eyes.
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| Our own much-loved rabbit, Jenna |
