Today I danced.
It was an ordinary moment
just after lunch.
My son was (thankfully) napping,
my daughter was drawing,
my husband was watering the grass seedlings
and all was quiet.
Yes, just an ordinary moment,
except suddenly it was extraordinary.
Maybe it was the
the brightness of the spring afternoon sun,
the way the flowers were blooming vibrantly,
the way my daughter’s light step
reminded me of one of the fairy folk
who has flitted through my dreams–
and suddenly I needed to dance.
Outside on the patio
next to pots of blooming pansy,
alyssum, begonia, and impatiens
I put on my favorite Scottish band,
the Tannahill Weavers,
music bursting out
from a little Bluetooth speaker
perched on our high brick wall.
The pipes, the guitars, the drums, the vocals
stirred my heart
and then my body
and suddenly I was leaping and swirling
and spinning and whirling
and remembering why I love dancing.
My daughter looked up at me
with such love in her eyes
and told me as I danced
You are my sunflower.
This means I love you.
I kept dancing,
and I felt free.
It is so glorious to be alive.