The Waltz at DuskBy Holly It’s not quite dark when we dance -
The shades are drawn but dusk still tarries, waiting a few moments more to wrap us tightly in her tendrils.
I press the button, and sweet music eases into the room. I hold out my hand, an invitation to dance. My partner places his hand in mine ~ smiles with anticipation ~ and presses his cheek to mine. He believes he is my first, and only – dance partner. He believes he has my attention for as long as he wishes.
He’s only 14 months – and the hand in mine is tiny, but trusting. He never fails to link us palm to palm, with great certainty. His graphite eyes look directly into mine, with delight and joy at this time we share.
He knows the routine well, as we’ve been dancing partners for quite some time now. The lights go off, and we waltz to tender lullabies. I inhale him – his milky warm breath – and enjoy his long blonde curls as we move cheek to cheek. He begins to croon his baby songs to me, smiling shyly when I pull back to see his face.
The cord is cut, but we are still bonded. I will forever carry this little one and these dances of ours in my memories. For now, he fits so nicely on my arm – but soon enough I won’t be able to hold him like this. He will move out of my arms, off my lap, to my side…and soon enough he will have his own love to dance with.
For now, he can’t last too long before his dangerously long eyelashes grow too heavy to hold open. He slides down into the crook of my arm, plops his thumb in his mouth, and snuggles close. He doesn’t even see the sibling faces peeking around the door frame, wishing they were the ones who were dancing with him.
He’s a cherub, one of my great loves ~ and a glorious dance partner.