Because apparently blog responses are becoming my thing.
Patronus could be vanquished by imagining a very happy memory, something that would give you the strength to defeat your fear and the feeling of overall misery. But I don't always find happy memories so joyful. I don't know, but I think that when Harry was thinking about how he was feeling soaring into the sky on his broomstick he must have felt some kind of hollowness at the same time. Sometimes happy memories are so distant that they don't make the reminiscer delighted at all. But let's give it a try.
- The very first time I was dancing on the stage. Or maybe the second time. The first time I was dancing my part was so tiny and my costume was ridiculous and the stage floor was unvarnished (= splinters). It was the part of a little bird in Cinderella. Everything was happening so fast I didn't really know what was going on (I was 6). However the second time was magical. My second part was the snowflake in the Nutcracker. The waltz of the snowflakes in the first act lasts 10 minutes. I took that time to realize that was THE place and THE time, that I was where I should be. However the strongest feeling of the kind I had when I was dancing as the swan in the Ugly Duckling. I nearly cried because I felt I could do that for the rest of my life. Well, it didn't work out. (oh, and that was the first time my feet started bleeding on stage. Fun!)
- This one time when me and my best friend were traveling from Warsaw. We live far from each other and every time we meet it's with all of our other friends. Which is super awesome! But we never get to hang out, just the two of us. Each of us had a heap of homework to do on the train, but somehow we couldn't shut up for three hours (also were probably very annoying ranking the cuteness of every little girl that was crossing the corridor).
- Last year, when me and my choir were getting back home from a choir competition, that, ekhem, we won. We were ebullient because we formed a very tight inner-circle and felt very comfortable with each other at the time and knew that a lot of us were going to leave that year and also that it was our conductor's last performance with us. Add to that the euphoric triumph and rush (we were singing our final piece two times faster because we had to catch our train)= we were singing on the train all the way back to the city. But it's hard to tell one good choir-related memory while all of them were so good. All the trips we had, to Italy, Lithuania, our workshops... All of them would probably work as a pretty good charm.
- The time I used to spend with my grandparents as a child. They lived in this charming village. My grandfather was a blacksmith, I sometimes helped my grandma with canning the cucumbers in July and jam-making in August. I helped her with collecting the carrots from her vegetable garden and in the evenings grandpa would set the fireplace and read. Now I wonder how is it that being so little I excelled at the art of cow-milking and right now I'm such a city-slicker.
- Every vacation with my mom basically. Especially our boat trip to Bornholm, ice cream in the middle of the night and silly songs we used to sing.
- I remember the final night of the camp I always go to with my friends. It was such a hot summer that we asked the head of the camp if we could all sleep in the basement and he said that we could, so in the end imagine twenty people, the heaps of mattresses and bedclothes, my friend making mint tea for all of us in the corner and us, talking the entire night away.
- That gospel concert I sang when I finally understood Whom I trust and where is the Truth. It was the beginning of my walking with God and since then I've never lost faith in Him. May it never change. But if it does I always have that memory to lean on, to defeat all the dementors. Or something.
Song of the day: Light - Sara Bareilles