Rapunzel and the Hot Air Balloon

Rapunzel and the Hot Air Balloon by Olivia Rose on Christmas 2002

This past week, I wrote about the power of choice and I noted that I’m not sure I ever realized until this year how much choice really played a part of change – that’s not entirely true.  There have been moments of self-empowerment throughout my life.  There have been times when my inner fire has been sparked by something or someone who inspired me to make the choice to change.  Sometimes the inspiration came from my bathroom scale; usually that’s when I would join Weight Watchers and drop twenty pounds or so.  Sometimes it was Oprah reminding me (and all of America) that just because you were born into a situation doesn’t mean you can’t change it. “You go girl!”  The most unlikely, and powerful inspiration came on Christmas Day 2002.  It was a personal Christmas miracle, if you will.

  

To set the scene: My family was gathered around my parents’ Christmas tree in the early morning of December 25, 2002.  My parents, my sisters Tanya and Kalliope , her three year old daughter Olivia and I were happily listening to Christmas music piping over the radio airwaves, eating delicious cinnamon rolls, lounging in our pajamas and unwrapping gifts.  We had just talked to Ellie who was had moved to Japan and couldn’t be with us for Christmas that year.  My parents’ little Norwich terrier Flirt (or Flirty boy as we liked to call him) was just nosing around on the floor for cinnamon flavored crumbs; he sported a big green bow on his head that someone had removed from their gift and attached to him.

In our family, we like to take turns, usually youngest to oldest, selecting a gift from below the Christmas tree and handing it to the person for whom the gift is intended.  In this way, everyone has a chance to admire all of the gifts and not just rip through them unceremoniously.  It takes a bit longer than everyone just rushing in and grabbing their own gifts but, personally, I don’t like to rush Christmas.  It only comes once a year, after all.

It was Olivia’s turn to select a gift and hand it out.  It was the first year that she really got the concept of taking turns and she was super excited every time her turn came around.  This time, she selected a flat, rectangle shaped gift and handed it to me.  I looked at the tag and it was from her – but I knew that anyway; her big smile gave it away.

The gift was wrapped beautifully.  My mom (or Nona as the grandkids call her) had helped Olivia wrap the gift.  Carefully, I opened the gift, wondering what treasure my niece had given to me.  I was so enamored of Olivia, she honestly could have given me anything and I would have been delighted.  It was a white plastic-framed blue painting.  I looked closely and saw that there were white clouds and green pine trees and large round purple object in the middle with a little purple square below it.  There seemed to be a little person painted just below the square and the person had very long dark hair flowing down to the ground (as though the person had two black pony tails).  I wasn’t exactly sure what the painting depicted but I knew that Olivia had painted (that was pretty clear).  My mom had been teaching her how to paint on canvas for a while.  “It’s beautiful Olivia!”  I exclaimed.  “What is it?”  I should probably have known.

“Auntie, it is Rapunzel and the Hot Air Balloon.”  I was puzzled.  “O, why is Rapunzel in a hot air balloon?”  I knew there had to be a story behind the painting.  Olivia put her little hands on her tiny hips and said, almost indignantly, “Because Auntie… she was tired of waiting for the prince to save her and she decided to save herself.”  My eyebrows shot up (they would have gone through the ceiling if that had been possible).  From the mouth of babes came the statement that coursed through my entire body as though it were intravenously injected.  “She was tired of waiting for the prince to save her and she decided to save herself,” I repeated.

It was such an amazing statement and from such a small child. How could she know what I had failed to realize for over thirty years?  I had always thought of myself as being an independent woman.  I was proud of the fact that I never depended on a guy.  In fact, I had been told by many a friend that maybe that was why I was still single… I never let a guy know I needed him.  I could fix most things around my house and if I couldn’t, I could pay a professional.   However, the truth was that I had held out a little on the self-declaration of independence.

 I had always wanted to own a home but thought that I would have to wait until I met the right guy to do it.  I thought I would need his income, his support and his help around the house.  I had thought “what if I bought a house and then met a guy that had a house?  What would I do then?”  I had all of these imaginary scenarios bumping around in my head as though they had any basis in reality.  The reality was that I was 35, single and had no prince charming in sight.  If I wanted to own a home (which at that point was probably my number one desire), then I was going to have to do it myself.  Waiting around for my prince to come to the “rescue” was no longer an option.  I would rescue myself and assert the last piece of my independence.

That January, under the steam of the inspiration from a three year old sage and through a generous gift from my parents, I was able to purchase a beautiful townhouse.  By the end of February, I was moved into the house that I would live in for eight years – four of which would be with my future husband.  The first thing I hung in my new home, was the painting “Rapunzel and the Hot Air Balloon.”  Throughout the years, the painting has served as a visual reminder of the power of choice and true independence.

Nine years after that personal Christmas miracle, I am in my new home, in a new state with my husband Emmett.  Yesterday, as I attempted to organize my writing room, I knew I needed a little inspiration.  I reached for my own hot air balloon and hung it on my wall.  Inspiration is now but a glance away.

Emmett, Olivia and me on Christmas Eve 2009