God's Dance

As the piano and violin music filled the room of the elder day center with a beautiful hymn, my eyes noted a new participant, a familiar face from my community and one for whom "familiar" is like ever-present smoke around her. This woman is an older dancer friend of mine, trained at a prestigious dance department in southern Vermont and later danced in the City with some of the trailblazers of the modern dance movement. Falling in love and moving to small town Vermont many years ago brought her a full and delightful rural life raising a family, riding horses and choreographing various community productions from time to time. At one point a dozen or so years ago, she told me that she was dancing with her horses! Now Dementia is robbing her of many "normal" routines and so there she was, fumbling with the song sheet, casting anxious glances around, growing more agitated.

On an inspiration, I crossed the room to her and invited her to dance. The joy on her face as she stood was beatific. We held hands wide, in a mirrored second position ballet and gently began to move in a waltz tempo, the music suggesting to us what our bodies might do. We traded ideas, instantly telegraphing our intentions in perfect harmony of movement. As the music gradually ended, we dropped into a mirrored curtsy and my heart swelled with the joy of God's Presence in the gift of dance shared. I escorted her back to her seat and as she sat down I whispered, "You looked like you needed to dance." "Oh, yes!," she said, and her eyes glowed while her hand sought to touch the back of my head and draw me close. My friend, now dancing on a much different path, but finding joy in dance always.

Hand Holding

Strong soft grip to clasp my own,

Pinky-laced,

Swinging with the rhythm of our

Unique, syncopated gait.

Thrilling at sixteen,

Still swells my heart at fifty-four.

One man's grip,

Love's simplicity,

You are mine.

Time Out

I want to flip the page on my wall calendar and find that all the squares on the new month are blank. Completely. And, while my super powers are in full force, let that page be protected by a repelling spell so that no pen, pencil or marker can blemish those white squares and pin me down to an activity, appointment or event, however much I may waver. Let this magical month create a shield around me such that all my friends, family and organizations that I love, will suspend my dues of time and energy and not begrudgingly, but gladly. And if the aforementioned should envy me my magical month, I so bequeath them a blank month all their own...just flip the page.