And I Would Dance

And I would dance.  With the intent of making sure every fiber in my body was connected to the very essence embodied in the music.  With the goal of denying even air to come between me and the sound and the beat, beat, beat that I still can find in the everyday sounds of our day-to-day lives.

I watch youth with cell phones entranced in their conversations, facing death as they cross the street and imagine soundtracks to their motions.  For they are as stymied about the interconnection of their seconds as I use to be when I would dance  . . .

And I would dance.  With no need for a partner.  Although sometimes one, or even two, would join in.  It was just a sign of those times when one could be truly captivated by another’s rhythm and the true face was enough, and a book wasn’t need to log it.  Just the rhythm.

And I would dance.  Because it always felt more natural than walking – like a little kid who can’t wait to take the next step and just plain walking would make the loss of skipping seem so sad.

And I would dance.  Closing my eyes has always been a dangerous thing because I have never lacked for visuals once the blank screen of imagination is present to my world.

But closing my eyes now can be really dangerous with a cane that carries me for just a few steps before I stop to wonder how far I have to go.  And if I’m feeling adventurous – which I always will – I stop to peek back and see how far I’ve come.  Which I guess is a decent and important thing to do when the steps forward become harder.

So you re-define the narrative and counter-program the soundtrack, adding the step, tap, step, tap, step, tap that is your new rhythm

But you remember – and you want.  You want that one moment that will recapture the movement and prove so many wrong.  You hold hope – which is nothing more than a real strong belief that all will get better.  Because miracles do happen.  They call it birth.

So why can’t I ask for a rebirth?

So you get to work.  And while some tell you, declare to you, assure you that this is your permanent new rhythm – you get to work.  And you strengthen and search and fight for what you know your rhythm to be.

Maybe it’s just a bounce, bounce, bounce at the shoulders and the knee.  You can add a little hip if you hold on.  Then you continue to work – because something has to change.  Sure as day turns into night – something has to change.  For the better.

Cuz it’s only nerves and it takes nerves of steel to commit to your dance.

This writer continues to move beyond the limits place in her path.


Road Trip