Lily is a daring, strong skier. She skied once this winter with a friend at Hunter Mt., and zipped down a double black diamond–the toughest run on the mountain. It was her last ski adventure of the season. At school the upper school skis on Thursdays, and Lily opted to snowboard. Day one out, she broke her humerus, the large upper arm bone; she’s been in a sling ever since.
It’s tough to be benched. At 13 it’s even tougher: no dancing (her passion), no running, nothing to do on Thursdays but stay home or go to school and do extra credit work. Unable to do any weight bearing exercise, she was dropped from her Lyrical Ballet class, and she likewise dropped Ballet. I could see her confidence dwindling away.
At home yesterday, Ski Day 5, while cleaning her room, Lily tore through her closet and whipped out accessories long buried in baskets, hibernating there through the winter of school uniforms. She ravaged, and examined the results then threw another look together for a good chunk of the morning until she presented herself for Mom’s approval. Lily looked fabulous–a beret slung back on her head, leather necklace, sparkly scarf, an open-worked sweater, over a grey sequined top, jeans and cowgirl boots with silver toes. Oh yes, and she put on her reading glasses with their smashing striation of pink plastic that shouted, “Look at me”. I couldn’t stop.
How reassuring that the human psyche can design itself out of depression; that even at 13, my daughter can use another facet of her immense creativity to generate smiles, especially her own. As designers, we are blessed with the ability to see things and organize them into pleasing, attention-getting solutions.
She went off to school with the scarf and the glasses