Dreams, Fears, and a Girl's Desire

This year, Phil the Groundhog popped his head out to the light on February 2 and did not run in fear of his shadow, marking an early spring. This small act of stepping forth to confront ones fears made me realize, maybe I should take note and crush the ever "creeping shadow" that grows each year in my life come February.

I am of course talking about, the dreaded "pink aisle" (see Feb. post in 2010), in which I found myself reluctantly the other day while purchasing the ingredients for my miracle cure chicken noodle soup. Lets just put it simply: I stared at all the pink heart balloons, sniffled my stuffy nose at each of them, and resisted the urge to deflate each happy heart that relayed messages such as, "Be Mine," "Kiss Me," and "Lover Boy." Instead, I quickly shuffled my feet out of the aisle and sneezed all the way home.

A few days later, I found myself relaying a memory to a friend while we were having coffee. It was a memory of my Nonna, and I began to realize why the "pink aisle" has such an affect on me while I told it. You see, my Nonna had become sick. My Mom, myself, and a few aunts and cousins (all girls) went to see her in the hospital. She was coming out of the anesthesia when she looked at my Mom, grabbed her hand, and said, "Lori, I just want to dye my hair red, put on a red dress, and have Pino take me dancing."

She was 80 years old. And the dream in her mind was still the dream of a young woman. The dream to feel pretty and special. The dream to twirl through life with that special someone on your arm. Truly, I am beginning to realize this is the dream and desire of every girl whether they're 16, 22, 31, 60, or 80. All we want is to connect and feel special, appreciated, desirable.


Repeating the memory to my friend, I understood the "pink aisle" had become my foreboding reminder that I was the only girl who didn't get asked to the dance. And in truth, all I wanted was to dye my hair red, put on a foxy red dress, and have a special gentleman twirl me around this dance-floor we call life.

So, like Phil the groundhog, I took my first steps into the light (the modern realm of the dating world) and blocked away that ever looming shadow.

You might ask how this has found me? And I have to say, thus far it has brought smiles and laughter, and maybe, just maybe, a dance is in the cards of my future. But I can truly say, the next time I find myself in the "pink aisle,"  I will not sniffle my nose at it, but instead, buy a red heart shaped box of chocolates and eat every piece with the thought of my Nonna in a red dress, red hair, dancing with my Nonno eternally, and smile.