Dancing

A friend sent me a note today, which ended with this line:

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass... It's about learning to dance in the rain.

I love to dance. I'm not very good, but I imagine myself to be fantastic.

I love music. All different sorts of music. oh no let's go let's go crazy. I forget that I'm older than dirt. I forget that I look a little creepy: an old lady shakin' her booty.

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I love to sing. I'm terrible, but only in real life. In my mind.. in my shower, in my car... There have been times in the van when I'm singing so loud, with such enthusiasm and verve that the whole waggle has felt compelled to join in. And we are homeless, homeless. Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake ahwoooooooooooooooooo!

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On the morning which would be Spice's last, Bill and I accidentally met on our walks. I was standing, transfixed, in front of this stunning home:

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Out of its upstairs porch were floating the most hauntingly beautiful strains. Violins leading their orchestral cousins in the sweetest, saddest melody. Vaguely familiar and so moving. The assembled whippets - Easy, Fat Charlie, Mama Pajama, Spice, Delia, and Luciano - listened. "Bill, what is that? Do you recognize it?" But it ended. We walked home together. I want to find that song, for it is forever linked in my heart now with one dear, sweet, loving, wagging, generous, darling dog. I want to find that music.

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I remember the title of a book, I'm Dancing as Fast as I Can.

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I was no saint for bringing Easy and Spice to our home. Please do not make that mistake in your thinking. It has been a rare gift. Spice was the sweetest dog I have ever known. Right there with Opie, our old Lab, and there is no higher praise. I have been able to hold on to a piece of my late friends, Easy and Spice's beloved Carolyn and Greg, right here in my arms.

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I am comforted by the image of Spice galloping towards Carolyn and Greg, with her head stretched high and her ears pricked, that tail wagging like crazy. And the reunion that would follow. That's what I hear in that music. That's it. I wonder if I heard it in those violins without knowing what I was hearing? I wonder if Carolyn was in that music? If the dogs heard her?

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I'm trying to dance. Sometimes it's raining too damn hard. I'm trying to focus on that happy reunion. I'm trying to block the image of that goddam bastard nightmare seizure.

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I need to find that music.

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I'm hugging my hounds