Moments with Michael

Dancing

It's the year 1995, and you and Michael have been married for 10 years. It's 7 PM, and you have been shopping, talking and relaxing with your best friend since 12 AM. Now are you however on your way home to Neverland and your beautiful husband.

I sit in the car on my way home after a wonderful day with my best friend of all time, Mette. We have been friends since forever, and we can talk about literally everything. She have always been there for me, and I think she's the person I trust the most in this whole world! Except for Michael, of course. Who I'm on my way home to right now.

I drive the car up the driveway at Neverland and gets out. I grab my bag from the seat beside me and walk up to the door. Just the thought that Michael waits for me on the other side of the door, that we can spend the evening cuddling and watching movies or playing board games or maybe just talking... No matter what, we can spend some quality time together. It makes me all warm inside.

I open the door to a dark house. There's no light on in the hall, and when I get my shoes and jacket off and go inside, I see that there are no light in the kitchen and the living room as well.

"Michael!" I call. It almost echoes through the house, no one answering. For a moment I am concerned. Where can he be?? And then it hits me - he's dancing, of course.

Michael has a special room, in another building actually, only for dancing. It has mirrors on one of the walls and a perfectly smooth floor. He spends a big part of his time there, especially when I'm not around to disturb him. I smile for myself at the last. He always insists that I'm not in the way, even though I see clear evidence for the opposite.

I quickly get my shoes and jacket on again, and goes towards the "dance house". When I reach the door, I hear music from the room - Yep, he's there I think. I open the door as quiet as I can, and closes it again the same way. The music is pretty loud, and it covers the little click the door makes, no matter how carefully I close it.

And there he is. My Michael, dancing around the room with his eyes closed. I tilt my head slightly and look at him with curiosity and interest. He seems so free, so happy. I can see the small smile on his lips as he spins faster and faster, just to stop and fall on his knees. Then he gets up, and continues with different pieces of choreography from some of his song, mixed with just free dancing. I smile happily at the sight.

I sit down on the floor, just looking at him move to the music, perfectly matching the rhythm of the song. I could watch him all day! I think to myself, as I keep taking in everything he does, every little move he makes. And the look at his face... He doesn't seem tired at all, even though there's a good possibility that he's been dancing the last three hours at least, maybe more. Instead there's a look of peace on his face. He seems happy, in peace with himself and the world. Almost like when he's sleeping, only now he's moving at the same time. Creating nothing but pure art, pure poetry with his body.

After about 15 minutes, the last notes of the song currently playing dies out, and the room becomes silent. Michael is standing still on the floor for a moment, waiting for the next song to start. When the silence continues, I see a confused expression go over his face, before he realizes that it must have been the last song on the playlist. He then opens his eyes. He's facing towards the mirrors on the wall, not me, but of course it doesn't take him more than a second to notice me in the mirror. He instantly turns towards me with a big smile. The peace I saw in him before is gone, replaced with more happiness. In just a few long steps he's right in front of me.

"Gry!" He exclaims "You're home!"

"Yes, I am"

"Was it a good day??"