Tuesday, October 8, 2019

The Butterfly Hours Memoir Project: SLIPPERS

For 2019 I'm running a year-long series on my blog in which I share my responses to the writing assignment prompts found in THE BUTTERLY HOURS by Patty Dann.

I welcome you to join me, if you like! I've divided the prompts by month, and the plan is to respond to 3 (or so) a week. For some of these I may write poems, for others prose. The important thing is to mine my memory. Who knows where this exploration will lead?

For links to the prompts I've written on so far this year, please click on The Butterfly Hours tab above.

This month's prompts are sister, shoes, slippers, snow, snowstorm, soccer, soup, stairs, stamp, stepmother.


I guess I come from a mostly go-barefoot-in-the-house family – and we've most often lived in the south, where slippers aren't nearly as useful as flip flops. (I myself am an ardent flip flop fan!) So the only slippers that come to mind are the pink ones that belonged to Grandma Dykes (the fuzzy ones with a simple open-backed band over the toes that you slip on) and my ballet slippers. 

Yes, for a time, I was sure I would be a ballerina! I never made it to toe shoes, but I did learn the basic positions. I also got to wear a leotard and tights. I was told I had a beautiful “dancer's neck” and that my flexibility and long limbs made me a natural. What little girl doesn't love hearing that?! Truly, I have carried those words with me for a lifetime.

Here are some links to poems I've written about dancers/dancing:

1 comment:

  1. I never got to take dance lessons, not in my small town, but loved dancing as a teen and later with my husband. My granddaughter loved her lessons, but has been lured on to gymnastics, nevermore the tutu. I went back to read about your shoes. Oh, those fringed boots. I imagine you loved them. "Shoes" were always a popular topic to write about with my students, who had special memories already. I have slippers here, too cold otherwise in the winter, and favorites are wooly slip-ons. Thanks for sharing your memories, Irene.


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