Remember When

[9]

dancing

I remember how the kitchen looked past midnight when we would stay up late talking or drinking or working. We were both usually past delusional and anything was fun, and you would almost always pull me up out of one of the two chairs at our tiny dining table and make me dance with you. Since I was shorter than you, I would usually lay my head on your shoulder and wrap my hands around your neck as we swayed slowly to nonexistent music.

You would sometimes hum if there was no music, but it was never to a specific song. You liked to make your own melodies and could never remember them afterwards no matter how hard you tried. There were times when you would even sing, but they were very rare because you hated your voice. I think the only reason you actually sang as much as you did is because I begged you to.

You would lay your head on top of mine where I could hear even the tiniest whisper from you. Sometimes they were things you didn't exactly want me to hear, but you would say them anyways because I guess you thought that I couldn't hear you. Dancing on the front lawn to my dorm was the first place you told me that you loved me, and I swear I almost cried from laughing after confronting you about it because you looked so embarrassed. That was also the first time we danced after you spent at least fifteen minutes trying to convince me to dance with you.

"Do you want to dance and forget about everything else in the world?" You asked me from where you laid in the grass next to me. We were laying and staring at the stars, stealing kisses every few minutes. I tried to convince you that I did not dance, but that only made you more determined until you literally picked me up off the ground and let me stand on your feet as you spun us in a slow circle. You laced your hands behind me and I did the same on your neck. I remember looking up at you for the longest time, loving the way that the moonlight lit up your face. You kissed my forehead before I laid it down on your shoulder, and I swear we danced for thirty minutes but only one song passed on the old radio you borrowed from your mom. Just prior to us pulling away was when you barely whispered you loved me in my ear, and I shoved you away from me in shock.

You did the same things many nights in our apartment years later, continuing to spin me around - usually in the kitchen - and hum songs to me. Even if I didn't even really want to dance, you would drag me up and put me right back on your feet to dance with you anyways because you knew it would make me feel better in the end.

"The more we keep dancing, the less our first dance at our wedding is going to be." I tried to persuade you one night as you stood from the dining table to walk up to where I sat on one of the counters, reading over another project for work.

"You know I don't believe in marriage." You countered, which I always hated talking about. It wasn't because you were noncommittal or anything, it was just because you didn't think that we needed a piece of paper and a title to prove we loved each other. I respected your opinion completely; I understood it completely, but I can't say that I actually agreed because I would've loved to marry you.

I let you take the large packet from my hands, and I held you close to me, hugging you between my legs. I buried my head in your neck as you tapped rhythmically on one of my thighs. I was already exhausted from three meetings I had attended, and I had to finish reading over that manuscript. But if dancing with you could stop time for even a few minutes, I was willing to take the risk. I pushed you away just enough so I could place my feet on the ground and then wrapped my arms tightly around your torso.

You kissed the top of my head before holding me to you with one hand on my neck and the other across my back. You sang this time, but I didn't know it was going to be the last time I heard you sing. "Oh, to see without my eyes, the first time you kissed me. Boundless by the time I cried, I built your walls around me." Your voice was quiet, but I could still hear it, and I think that made this moment the slightest bit more special because it made it a little more intimate.

If I had known that I wouldn't dance with you again, I don't know if I would've held you closer or further way so I could remember what dancing with you looked like. But who am I kidding? I'll always remember the way you looked while dancing with me, whether it was in our super small kitchen or under the stars, in our car blasting the radio while shouting the words to Don't You Want Me. I'll never forget what it felt like to dance with you.