Cinderella and the Quiet glass slipper.
Once Upon a time, in a warm little room at the top of the
palace, Cinderella was brushing her hair by candlelight, slowly,
one stroke at a time. The ball was far behind her now.
The music, the dancing, the rush of midnight and the sound of the
clock in the cold marble stairs under her bare feet.
All of it had softened the way bright things soften when you
carry them a little while until they become something you hold
gently rather than something that holds you.
She set the brush down on the night stand.
The glass slipper sat in a small square of moonlight.
She looked at it. It looked back, still and clear
and quietly Extraordinary the way things are extraordinary
when nobody is watching. She thought about the evening.
Not the grandness of it, not the carriage or the gown or the
moment the room had turned to look.
She thought about the smaller things, the way the music had
lifted her, the cool night air on the balcony.
The feeling of being just, for those few hours, entirely and
completely seen. That was the part worth keeping.
The feeling. Not the slipper, not the magic.
The feeling, a knock at the door, gentle, unhurried, a kind
palace made, carrying warm milk with honey already stirred in.
Cinderella accepted it with both hands and drank it slowly,
standing by the window, looking out at the moonlit garden below.
The fountains were still, the trees were dark shapes, patient
and quiet. The whole Kingdom was asleep.
She felt the warmth of the milk settle in her chest.
The way kindness always settles when you let it.
She climbed into bed. The sheets were cool and smooth.
The pillow was soft. Outside the window, the garden
held its moonlit breath. She looked at the glass slipper
one last time, and she closed her eyes.
She thought of the music, just the feeling of it rising and
gentle, and let it carry her slowly, the way music does when
you stop listening and simply float.
The candle burned low, the garden breathed.
And Cinderella, Not because of the slipper, not because of the
magic, but simply because she was warm and safe and entirely
herself, slept. You are seen tonight, little
one, just as you are. No glass slippers required.
close your eyes, let the music carry you gently.
You are warm, you are safe, you are enough.
Sleep now, just like Cinderella. Sleep.
Sleep down.