All Dressed Up

art by fafi; keep art alive

When I was a young girl my imagination was quite possibly my most treasured posession, and best friend. Some of this stemmed from being a voracious reader who consumed stacks of books carried home from the library, or brought home for keeps after visits to a few bookstores that my grandmother would take me to. It was also most likely inspired by the love for movies that my mother helped to introduce me to, most often during middle of the night insomnia-fueled viewings of musicals and classic films. We went to the movies often, too. I remember vividly going to see Disney's Robin Hood, the release of the Star Wars films, and the re-release of The Sound of Music. My imagination and I loved to create characters, often on paper in numerous spiral bound notebooks, but also in myself. Creating a new me was one of the best games I could ever think up -- one day a gypsy fortune teller, another as Maid Marian, the next Holly Golightly, and the week ending as Princess Leia -- when everything else seemed stagnant, I could always change myself into someone else entirely.

Julia was a princess kind of girl. She insisted on only wearing dresses that would spin, and that were of the brightest hues. She was a Disney girl, full of those happily ever after fantasies. That said, she also admired the animae versions of the adolescent heroine, in shows like Sailor Moon and Muldiver. Most of these stories contained similar themes of an outsider girl -- different in some way, or craving something different -- is somehow given the power to change her existance either through love or some supernatural power. Mostly, though, it comes down to love. Granted, most of these stories are filled with very limited and unrealistic versions of love. My mother used to joke that you never saw what really happened after the princess married the prince, that if you had you would most likely see her doing dishes and cleaning after the prince's horse. Somehow, though, it was never the promise of a prince that seemed to interest Julia; instead it was the fanciful garb and the idea of having something "special", be it powers or title.

Veronica takes to more than just the costume of a princess. She seems to adore the prospect of being treated as a princess should be. She wants things to be beautiful, flowers and rainbow colors everywhere, and she strives for attention. I watch her in just about any situation and she has this power to charm just about anyone. Part of it is her outgoing personality, she will literally talk to anyone and is very generous with her words and what she is willing to give. Her new favorite pastime is to gather up flowers, or draw pictures, and gift them to the everyday people she encounters. A freshly picked rose is given to the person who bags our groceries, a painted castle left at the neighbors front door to greet them on their return home. One memorable Veronica encounter happened when we lived in Chicago. We were riding the train and she decided to re-name all the passengers that sat in her close proximity. By the time we reached our stop everyone around us were laughing with each other, and waving goodbye to the charismatic toddler who christened them names like Eggbert and Leeloo. It does not take a very big suspension of disbelief to see her ruling over a kingdom of her own.

Max is fascinated by the costumes Veronica wears. His favorite token of imaginative royalty is the crown. Back when we lived in the small one bedroom, in Fullerton, the kids used to play this game out on the balcony. Veronica, and my roomate at the time's children, used to set up this throne with the wood planks that were left by the previous tenants. Max would excitedly sit on them and the kids would then find any object within their immediate reach and try to balance it on his head. They would call Max the king, and after awhile he caught onto the game and would say "the king! the king!" I think the fascination with Veronica's tiaras stems from Max's memory of his past reign as household king.

Perhaps I am raising a future realms great leaders. Or maybe we all secretly long to play at being someone else. It is just as we grow older that we save such desires for Halloween, or the occasional masquerade parties. What would we dress as if it was socially acceptable to put on different costumes regularly. Who would you be today?

I pack my suit in a bag

I'm all dressed up for Prague

I'm all dressed up with you

All dressed up for him too

Prague (All Dressed Up) ~ Damien Rice

L.

Hide and seek

art by rusty wex; keep art alive

Spring is alive in our neighborhood, I can feel the honey bee buzzing of energy and heart-beating reverie. Sitting in the corner of my kitchen by the two open windows, my favorite place to write as of late, I watch the signs of the season in the tiny details of life outside. The woman from upstairs who has the newborn baby, she usually walks about with the red-eye squint of sleep deprivation and a scowl on her lips, a non-verbal curse at the morning sun. But, this morning I noticed a every so slight bounce to her step, and an actual smile as a hello when our eyes met and I nodded to greet her. Later in the afternoon, when school had let out, the teenage daughter that just moved in across the way went running -- no, it was skipping -- past my window and into the parking garage. I heard giggles that you know came from a blushing girl, that were loud and raucous, and so infectious that I had to giggle a little myself. She came out eventually, with a shy boy in tow, his eyes on nothing but her. The looks on those just been kissing faces were the sort of thing that line of birds on the line should be singing about. They were every pop songs favorite couple, with her hiked a bit shorter parochial school uniform and his ripped jeans and torn at the sleeve t-shirt, they were Southern California's post-modern Jack and Diane for a mid-afternoon moment.

Last night Veronica refused to wear any clothing beyond her polka-dot underwear. She told me that her skin was too hot for such things, and that clothes would only slow down her dancing. Julia put on the classical music channel, by request, so the scarcely-clad Veronica could practice her self-taught ballet. "You know, she is actually a good dancer, Mom. We should get her into a class," Julia remarked. And, she is right, Veronica has the agility and sense of balance of a dancer; or, a fairy. Some nights I peek under her nightgown to see if her wings have arrived. After the dancing, and a bath, she told me that there would be no getting dressed unless we went outside to talk with the moon. This is a warm evening ritual we started when she was barely walking, around the time that she fell in love with the book Goodnight, Moon; and, spent more time wishing the moon a fair evening than all the times spent reading and re-reading that favorite book.

On our walk back into the house Max looked around furtively, scanning the sky, asking me finally "Where moon go?" Veronica answered authoritively, with hands firmly on her hips, "Max, the moon went to play hide-and-seek with the stars." Veronica being the family expert on all lunar playtime activities, of course.

Julia has been spinning about the house in the glow of love's soon arrival. She kisses everyone as she walks by, and is constantly singing even when her iPod is gifting her ears with song.

As for me, I am just hoping to catch some of the fever around me. The blues have taken resident in my skin this week, and I am waiting for it to take the first bus, and leave. I want to trade my mood in for Spring's bursting pallet of color.

spin me round again
and rub my eyes
this can't be happening

when busy streets
a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy

hide and seek

Hide and Seek ~ Imogen Heap

L.