Eowyn and Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.
Before she left for Ottawa with her parents for the Canadian Dance Festival, eight-year-old Eowyn announced, “I’m going to have my picture taken with Prime Minister Trudeau.” Ha!
Once words are launched into the air, atoms and molecules perk up their ears and set the stage. The girl’s parents noted the flurry of molecular theatrics and unwittingly began to conspire with them.
My niece Kate, who is Eowyn’s mother, had won an award in the dance world. She arranged for me to receive a formal invitation to the reception from the Minister of Heritage. On the day of the event, I drove the four hours to Ottawa, and checked in to the downtown hotel where other family members were staying. I took a taxi through the stop-and-go traffic to the site of the reception, and passed through the security queue.
Hundreds of dancers were gathered on the second floor of the Sir John A. MacDonald building on Wellington Street. Wine flowed, an Aboriginal dancer welcomed us to this traditionally Algonquin land, the several speeches were short, and the award was presented to Eowyn’s mother. Dancers milled about, jubilant to meet others devoted to this same artistic pursuit.
Eowyn, calm and collected in a white sundress, and her parents eventually wandered out to a quieter space at the glassed-in front of the building. They looked out. A black limousine pulled up to the sidewalk.
Prime Minister Justin Trudeau emerged from the limo with an entourage of body guards. A waiter whom Eowyn had befriended asked her if she wanted to meet the Prime Minister. Eyes wide, Eowyn said “Yes!” and the waiter yelled, “Quick, downstairs!”
They dash down the stairs to another reception room. What happens next is as much the mystery of molecules—obviously listening—as it is the universe fulfilling a promise to a young girl. Somehow sensing this was meant to happen, Eowyn self-assuredly jumps the line of officials wanting to talk to the leader of the country. He sees the girl (and the camera-ready waiter), and steps over beside her, big smile on his face. Small knowing smile on hers. Click. History in the making. Her story.
Did I hear you say you are going to write a memoir? I can hear the flurry of molecules and rustling of paper and tapping on keyboard. I can see pages accumulating. I can feel the stories dripping from your shoulders and fingertips. History in the making. Your story.
Diane Taylor 
What a fabulous post, Diane!! Love it. And that photo is wonderful.
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Thanks, Cynthia. The photo is a little blurry, but there’s no mistaking who they are.
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Cynthia, you took the words right out of my mouth! (Or did I eavesdrop on perky molecules?) What a fabulous post, Dee!! Your writing is superb, and such a treat! Many thanks, Kathy
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What wonderful words! Thought of you with the focus on intention. Just went to your website and found your home page names two of your creative non-fiction books that I loved – My Grandpa and the Sea, and The Story of a Dolphin. Gems, both.
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Yes, Diane, a really beautifully written piece. I’m so glad it all worked out and you were there to tell the tale so well.
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Carol, thank you so much for those lovely words! It surely was a lot of fun, and fun to write about too – like you and your photography, I would imagine.
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Congratulations to your family and all the dancers
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Thanks Donna. You would have loved milling about with all those dancers!
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Thanks Donna! It was a pretty special day for me, but monumental for Eowyn. She is still talking about it which is remarkable for an eight year old.
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What a great story!
Regards,
Gerry
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Your comment is very much appreciated! 🙂
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Amazing story! I’ve never met any officials here in Canada, but it sounds like your niece had a lot of fun and a memorable picture, as well!
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Yes, she had a great time. Thanks for visiting my blog!
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Atoms and Molecules in a Flurry for me! Thanks Diane. Light and Love, Shona
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As indicated by your sunbursting image, cape swirling in preparation for lift off!
Light and love to you, Shona, fellow traveller in a flurry.
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Dear Diane, So exciting. The gift of intention. I must say I have experienced it and maybe have told you. It was in England, London. Next time we are together I will tell the story. Love to you. Sorry I didn’t respond to your sched, Too busy, I guess. Doing what? Got me! July is fairly open and I don’t want to fill it up, but, I do want to see you. Let me know again how your sched. is. Love, Lynda PS. just saw this in my drafts and want to say that I do want to get together soon. L.
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Lynda, just opened my computer to send you an email and found this! Look forward to hearing your London story. Come visit any time.
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Goosebumps galore as I read this one, Diane. Yes, memoir pages are flying in my writing cave. You are among the special ones who encourage me. Thank you.
Blessings ~ Wendy
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“Goosebumps galore” are a sure sign of an empathic reader! And glad to hear the memoir is speeding ahead.
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Thanks for the encouragement. I’m starting to see how my life plays out in ways that are in line with what I emotionally believe….it’s pretty cool.
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You are on a good path! Best wishes with your story.
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Thank you Diane.
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