To dance. She lived for dancing. She was known in her small town, neighborhood block and local nightclub for dancing. It was a bit of a paradox, really. She could shake her body in a wild mesmerizing rhythm that drove the men wild all around her. Yet, she was the pious sunday church-going gal that believed in no sex before marriage. Ask her how many times she had been married. Yes, seven times and now it was going to be eight. She was happy. Very happy.
She woke up earlier than usual today so that she could get the coffee going even faster than usual. It was going to be a fun, wild day. She had her dress, shoes and necklaces all laid out on the bed. Her granddaughter was up as well. She was wild at heart like her but in an extremely different way. While she felt the need to shake it all out on the dance floor, her granddaughter felt the need to shake it all out by moving throughout the world. Neither wanted to stand still. They just went about it in different ways. They didn’t understand each other very well. Never had. Of course, there were several generations in between them. But how could they both be so blind to that shared need for movement. Was it genetic? Was it a result of having lived in confined spaces? Was it a result of reacting to the mediocrity all around them? It didn’t really matter. Not now at least.
The years have passed by and now they have found peace with each other. Their different paths created a world of distance between them that was never abridged. Now, now it was possible. It was a shame that her granddaughter wouldn’t really hear it from her. But she would know. She had noticed the quickly moving shadows in the corners. She had noticed the light whisper and touch on her shoulders. She knew. Her grand daughter knew she was with her.
It was time. She had her coffee. She got dressed in her Sunday best. She grabbed her bouquet. She was going to head to that wondrous sun-filled beach and dance away. She could not stop moving.
She looked down and saw her granddaughter playing with her son on the beach. She blew softly and propelled the kite around. Her grand daughter looked up and photographed the dancing kite. They were always going to move.