“I wish we had danced more” was one of the last “we” things Jimmy ever said to me. One of the first “I” things I did after he died was to take dancing lessons. Until recently that didn’t occur to me as odd. I hadn’t actually put it together.
Dancing is so wonderfully romantic and sexy. For a long time when I heard a ballad, any song that could be slow danced to I pictured and actually felt myself dancing to it with Jimmy.
A few days ago I saw the episode of “Glee” where the widow and widower on the show get married. As I watched them dance at their wedding I glided along with them in my mind. In my fantasy, I'm fabulous but in real life even after dancing lessons I'm klutzier than Elaine in Seinfeld.
Still, I felt swooped up and dizzy with the anticipation of falling in love and being swept away in a faceless man’s arms. Does ‘faceless’ mean I’m no longer reaching out to Jimmy? I think so and I think this is good.
If I put myself out there maybe one of these days I’ll be stepping on somebody’s toes again.