I’ve become somewhat of a Dance Fighter. My Poor Dance Partner is Reeling, the Last one caught him Square in the Jaw. We’re not talking about Actual Punches Here. Just Innuendo. Accusation. Mistrust. Fear. It doesn’t Help Reconciliation. So we’ve Decided to sit out a few Dances till I can Handle My Emotions. It’s Kinda Disheartening that I still got my Dukes Up. The Reaction of My Dance Partner Melted My Heart. Our Conversation about it was Full Of Understanding and Love. He Knows How Scared I am. Why is it so Hard to Just Enjoy the Dance?
But you know, our Dear Friends and Family have Given Us the Floor. Everyone wants us to Find Our Rhythm Again. We Badly want to Find Our Rhythm. He is Still the One who Lights My World. His Arms Are Home To Me. So, The Dukes Gotta Come Down. The Heart Has To Stay Open. We Got to Trust the Choreographer. This Dance is Our Dance. I’ll Practice my Left Hooks at Rumble Studio. The Little Boxing Studio. Down the Street.
I Love You.
It was my first Act of Self Care. Stemware in my hand like Jazz playing gently from my stereo makes me feel Special. I remember when I made the Choice to do the Little Things. So every night when I went to bed I would reach for my Special Stemware. The ones I saved for Company or Family Dinners. It was Cool to the Touch and I loved how Pretty and Clear the water looked as it Swirled into the Glass. After Getting my Special Green and White Pill called Prozac from it’s Friendly Orange Bottle I would Head to Bed. I felt Luxury in that Moment. I realized Regardless of my situation, I could Make Life Special.
We go through things in Life that make our legs Concrete. Our joints become hot and sore from Stress. Our knees Tremble and Shake. An Elephant takes Residence on our Chests. Making it hard to Breathe. Laundry Piles become Everests. The dishes in the sink Taunt us. The soft light of Dawn becomes Blinding and Painful. Sleep becomes our only Escape. Our Beds become our Safe Zone. And also a Torture Chamber if sleep Eludes. Smiles become Frozen in Place. Completely Incongruent with our Broken Spirits.


Light Illuminates and adds the Twinkle. Casts into our consciousness Beauty. The Pure and Lovely. It draws us out of our heads and into the Moment. The humble Chocolate Chip Cookie under its glass dome on the counter looks Decadent with the Light shining from the kitchen window on it. Drawing our eye away from the kitchen sink where dishes have assembled.


