We danced. Together, in the sun rays.
It came in perfectly through the giant front window, the potted plants reaching up further in their bends & twists to get a kiss from the warmth. I stood in front of the windowsill, staring out at the bleak buildings across the street, but cocooned in beautiful, protective warmth.
It was a cold March morning, almost exactly a year ago. My feet were in far-too-large-for-me slippers, and my mug’s contents were steaming. Remnants of the Soviet Union’s rule were nearly everywhere I looked out the window into the neighborhood: the cement buildings, the gates, even the gray demeanor of winter. But that morning, there was sunlight, and together, we danced.
I celebrated with the plants, thankful for light in such a dark place. Eyes closed, I thought of the safest place on earth–and though it had no earthly description, I went there anyway. It was bright and cheery, and he was there. His arms were outstretched, his embrace a huge sigh of contentment.
I didn’t want to walk out of the path of the sun’s rays. I didn’t want to leave the heavenly place I walked into. I didn’t want to end the dance, or forget the laughter when I stumbled over my too large slippers.
Winter raged on. In fact, winter lasted through the summer and into the fall. The bitter chill nipped at my nose and hands, and froze outer edges of my heart. I remembered the dance of course, but it was a far off memory, a memory I now looked down upon. Obviously, I wasn’t paying attention to “real life” and hardships and the reality of loneliness to be so free in dance. Winter brings too much loneliness.
Truthfully, I let winter wrap its icy fingers around my throat. Of course, I didn’t know it was a death grip; I just longed for comfort and answers, and its touch provided just that at first. But winter–doubt–has the grip of Darth Vader. And I invited it, allowed it, to take hold of my life.
I longed for the dance, if even I looked upon it condescendingly. I missed the childlike awe the plants and I shared that morning, or the joy I was able to find despite the pieces left behind of the Soviet Union.
I’ve been invited again to the dance. As have you. Honestly the invitation’s been there all along. Maybe we just finally decided to check the mailbox.