When I Dance, You Dance.

This evening I put my headphones on, turned the Ipod up and chopped veggies in preparation for the big soiree tomorrow. With the hubby glued to the Michigan game, I blasted my eardrums and became absorbed in melodies.

Then, her tiny hands wrapped around my legs and I felt Nonie hugging me from below.
Up. She was up. (Not sleeping). Way up. And it was 10pm.

I carried about with my work as she dragged her stool across the kitchen. She placed it in front of the sink, hoisted herself up on it and sat. She was fascinated with my slicing, dicing, peeling, scooping - though I never really looked straight at her - I watched her peripherally. Is that a word? It is now.

I wasn't thinking about vegetables - I was actually thinking about Mom and her halloween birthday.

More specifically I was remembering the card Chris got for her when we were little that had a picture of a lost kid talking to a police officer on the front with the quote,

"Have you seen my mother?"

And on the inside of the card the police officer is scratching his head and saying,

"I don't know, there are so many places she could be hiding."

At some point during all this, I clearly started dancing to the music funneling into my head. And when I'm chopping veggies - boy, can I drop a beat. And so can Nonie.

Nonie, when I Dance, You Dance
(even when you can't hear the music).

And before long I was back to thoughts about Mom and her Halloween Birthday.
With Mom I laugh, hope, cry, learn, complain, love, question, and dream.
With her I explore the "Whys" and the "Hows" and find the strength to believe in the "What ifs".
And my mind raced with memories and highlights, all the times I turn to Mom for the missing piece...

And as I replay my childhood memories I see that:

When I Laugh, She Laughs.
When I Cry, She Cries.
When I Question, She Questions.
When I Dream, She Dreams.

And of course Mom,
When I Dance, You Dance.
Because, you are my music.

Happy Birthday.