Cinderella

When I was a little girl, my uncle always called me Cinderella. Ever since, I have wondered what my version of the ball is and when I would finally be recognized as the woman with the blue shoe. Since I had never dreamed of marriage or meeting a man, I always figured it would be the moment when all the pieces seemed to make sense, and I realized what everything was for.

At first, I thought it would be going to college. It is funny how the moments we seem to wait our entire life for breeze by in a matter of seconds. I went from awkwardly using Apple Maps to my classes to being able to find the closest parking spots while avoiding the parking and transportation van, all quicker than I realized. ( Sometimes I couldn't dodge them well enough and ended up paying for parking tickets, but that is neither here nor there.)

But today, in Little Rock, Arkansas, I think I finally realized what my version of fitting my blue shoe is. As I sat in the Robinson Center, wiping my eyes and watching a live ballet version of Cinderella, the realization hit me.

Cinderella's time at the ball was when she was finally able to let go and be herself. She no longer held the label of who her stepmother or sisters told her she was. She was no longer a servant or one forced to live the life forced upon her by circumstance.

She was free. She was happy. She was simply being herself, and that was how she met the Prince.

Meeting the prince for Cinderella wasn't a moment of truth for her or everyone else in her life. Cinderella's stepmother and her siblings always knew the truth. They were aware of her value, but rather than uplift her, they decided to make her their servant. It took the prince one introduction to remember Cinderella, and the memory was enough for him to search the whole village for her.

But Cinderella reverted to her daily life, and if the prince never came looking for the woman who lost her shoe, she would've never been revealed as the woman in blue. Her fair Godmother gave her one night to make memories that would last a lifetime. Hell, even Cinderella's fairy godmother knew her true value. Whenever I hear the story of Cinderella, I wonder if she knew her value. After years of being subjected to the cruelty of her stepmother and step-siblings, I wondered if their actions blurred her vision of who she was.

It was with this thought that I wondered if maybe my version of the ball or fitting into the blue shoe isn't others realizing who I am or what I have to offer, maybe it is me finally realizing it for myself.