A Red Feather

Everybody ages, it’s a fact of life.  But it appears that I’ve now become invisible.   Walking around my local shops, not one person bothered to catch my eye or give me even a hint of a smile.  And the shop assistant that served me barely acknowledged my existence.

I realise the years have taken their toll.  My face is more lined, the wrinkles deeper and my auburn hair no longer so vibrant.  But inside, I’m still the girl I once was.

Several people pushed past me as I continued to window shop, almost as if I wasn’t there.  Is this what happens when you grow old?  You disappear into the background.

How different my life used to be… when I trod the boards…

***

I can still remember that first review.

‘The West End opens its arms and welcomes a gifted young actress, Miss Annabelle Evans, who last night lit up the London stage.  The depth of her performance eclipsed only by her talent for dancing.’

What wonderful years they were, those that followed.  But a dancer’s career is limited.  Muscles and ligaments become overstretched and the body tires.  As did mine.  That was when the telephone stopped ringing and the parts dried up.

***

It was at that moment I caught sight of my reflection in the shop window.  Time seemed to stand still as tears sprang to my eyes.  Was that dowdy figure in the charcoal grey coat and woolen hat really me?  Had I made myself invisible?

It was several weeks before I ventured out again, but this time with a definite spring in my step.  Heads turned in my direction and strangers smiled as I passed.  A shop assistant, while ringing up my purchases, made small talk.

Back home, I carefully removed my forest green hat and ran my finger over the bright red feather that adorned it.  A souvenir from my days on the stage.  It was just one small step but what a difference it had made.  Just wait until I really get going, I laughed to myself.  And I gave a little twirl!