When bliss was at hand, we danced. And when tragedy struck, we danced.
One of my fondest memories of the courtship with My Heart was the night we danced. We waited in line for hours to get into the members opening of the Basquiat show at MOCA downtown. I had on a bright and fluffy peasant skirt and espadrilles. He had on a vintage corduroy jacket and jeans. We looked good together and we were blissfully happy in that moment. Moved by the art and the night he grabbed me. And it was there, amongst the paintings, the people, in the absence of music we danced. That is when I knew we were in love. Everyone knew we were in love.
And in the midst of personal tragedy our love brought us to dance once more. Our family hit with an unspeakable loss. Another family facing something equally heartbreaking. Sadened by these turn of events but continuing through the motions of life. My Heart and I discussing such bleak moments in a grocery store. And the music became all I could hear and so we danced. Who cares what everyone thought. I know we are in love and I pray every day that he is immune to what happens to others. I can't bear the thought of being left to dance alone.