Vibrant Nation

I got sad tonight, struggled with continuing to write my book while being torn to write a memory of Robert that had jumped to my mind. I journaled this:

One day I was rushing about, I don’t remember for what, maybe preparing for a trip. I was stressed, crashing about, full of nervous energy. Robert caught me in mid-flight, took my hand, and led me to the living room. “I’m so busy,” I protested.

“Just for a minute,” he said quietly, leading me onto the bamboo mat which was our ersatz dance floor. He switched on the CD player--Michael Bublé sang the old standard, “Put Your Head on My Shoulder.” Robert enveloped me in his arms and began to dance me around the floor. My body melted into his strong embrace and his graceful rhythm.

I started to cry, feeling his closeness and knowing that nothing was more important than holding this man I loved in my arms. I continued to sob, and he didn’t need to ask why. He just cradled my head into his shoulder and kept us dancing.

I don’t remember what I was rushing to that day, but I do remember every moment in Robert’s arms, the feel of his chest against my face and his body leading mine until our rhythms melted into one being. Yes, just like making love.

I would do anything to dance in his arms again. I narrate this special moment to remind you to stop, take time with your lover if you’re fortunate enough to have him or her with you, and never take for granted that there will always be time later on. Now is all we have. Treasure each other.

After I finished, I realized that maybe I’ll end the book with tonight's journal entry.

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