Cinderella Really Just Wanted To Party

Our stay-at-home celebration of the Presidential Inaugural Ball

Image from Author

Lately I’ve been having Cinderella levels of longing to go to a Ball. A magical escape from the monotony of daily life. Because at the crux of it, this woman’s desires were rooted in her desire for freedom of choice and agency over her own life — even if it was just for one night.

Cinderella retreated into her imagination just to stay sane. To get through the monotony of each day’s chores she had a constant vision of possible future happiness. It wasn’t mindless passive daydreaming, but rather she was training her mind to find strength from within. Quite the beacon of hope. The embodiment of all her dreaming manifested into a fairy godmother which really allowed her to save herself in the end.

She was able to show us that her ‘magic’ really comes from a bit of imagination, creativity and resourcefulness. Her unwavering positive attitude is admirable. After all she is the one that was doomed for a solitary life of indentured servitude. And for me? — I’m just sitting here on my couch complaining that I can’t go anywhere to have fun due to a global pandemic.

When the world feels chaotic, routine brings order. So, every day — in and out — that’s what I’ve clung to.

But my pandemic routine has become so predictable that the days are blending together. I need a marker in time to signify the differences between my days. I need a change.

So, I took a page out of Cinderella’s book and included myself on a royal invitation to a Ball of my very own.

A Presidential Inaugural Ball

My very own magical escape from the monotony of daily life. But more importantly, a concrete specific memory to help mark this significant moment in history so it won’t blur into the background of the-year-I-stayed-at-home.

Of course this “Ball” still stayed within the boring everyday restrictions of pandemic-life. This would be a stay-at-home Inaugural Ball. But at least tonight’s task of isolation — which I usually greet with resentment — would be considered part of my patriotic duty. I have aligned my actions with the spirit of exactly what our new health-and-safety-conscious President Biden would want.

Being able to rebrand my mindset of my everyday burden into something to be proud of is honestly just as magical of a task as turning a pumpkin into a mode of transportation.

So how else did we transform the evening?

  • Instead of viewing our isolation as an everyday limitation, tonight’s attendance called for an exclusive VIP guest list. Tickets were selectively distributed to only the extremely political elite: An event reserved for my family alone.
  • We clinked our glasses for every single sip of champagne (and apple juice for the kids). Though this sounds like an exaggeration — it is not. This is how you drink ‘special drinks’ with a one-year-old. It was all quite celebratory.
  • Our home-cooked pot-roast dinner was treated as a catered event as we wined and dined and spoke of the possibilities of the future administration. Which was a nice break from filling our evening with the typical parental pleads with our toddlers to eat their dinner.
  • These events are about dress to impress. Cinderella knew she simply couldn’t attend in rags. So we understood it was time to trade in our own self-imposed pandemic uniform of sweatpants for something a bit more elegant. Everyone stepped it up a notch. Bow Ties and suspenders. Suits and dresses.
  • A bit like a wedding, dancing was in order. While we may not have been able to listen to a famous live band, we did ‘dance like nobody’s watching’. Because well, nobody actually was. And like any little kids dance party, the night ended in running in circles, joyful squealing, and unlimited laughter.

So, thank you Cinderella for your determination to bring some joy into your monotonous life. You are an inspiration. You faced some horrible challenges of your own, but in the end, you slipped on your heels and you went to that Ball.

And because of that, my family didn’t let a global pandemic stand in our way from celebrating yesterday’s historic events. It may have called upon some of our own magic and imagination to attend, but it was worth it for the celebration of hope — the celebration of possibilities — the celebration of our nation’s new future.

Even if no one listened. Even if no one heard me at all. At least I’ll have told the moon. — itoldthemoon.com

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