A time to dance, a time to mourn
Living in the desert as I do, there is a reverence and appreciation for rainy days here that would no doubt baffle most people where rain is a regular event. Thursday morning as I was on my way to the dentist, the DJ on the radio was going on about how gorgeous it was outside, the skies gray and heavy, the rain that started last night still coming down, the roads wet and hissing with the splash and spray of passing cars.
When I got to work I was chatting with a friend (the same one who found my blog and I was sure I’d lost forever…funny how things change), and she said she was loving this weather. I have marveled at the transformation a rainy day imposes upon this desert landscape, and I like a good storm, but solid rain just brings me down, and I’m scraping bottom as it is. I told her the rain just matched and exacerbated my sadness. But on sunny days I feel insulted at old Sol’s audacity, as the rain continues little abated inside me. There is no pleasing me, which is why huddled under a quilt is probably the best place for me right now.
It seemed odd to be going to the dentist already; I swear I was just there. 6 months passes by so quickly, and you cannot know how much your life can change in so short a time. Hell, it only takes a minute. I was glad I was going today, when I made the appointment. I was going to have a bright and shiny smile to beam at A when he picked me up from the airport tonight. I was so excited—somehow I’d managed to get a non-stop flight from T to SJ, so leaving after work would get me there by 8, our normal chat time, and we’d have the whole evening. Would that we did.
A and I spent a lot of time dancing in his living room, although it was more swaying than dancing. We loved music, and neither of us could hear it without moving, at least tapping a toe. We loved being close. So dancing was a natural, and one of our favorite things to do. My favorite memory from my last visit to him involved dancing. It was after dinner, and we were dancing (ostensibly) in the living room. But we were talking as we swayed, and I don’t remember what got me started…maybe we were talking about the totally skeezy McDonald’s we stopped at for lunch and potty break in SC. But I ended up asking him if he’d ever seen the bit about the pink Wonderbread welfare burger from Eddie Murphy’s Delirious. He hadn’t, so I did the whole bit for him. I couldn’t finish it without busting up, and by the time I was done, we were both laughing so hard all pretense of dancing had come to an end. We were literally holding each other up, our knees weak from laughing so hard, tears in our eyes, trying to catch our breath.
And those few minutes perfectly encapsulate who we were together.