bouncing around the room...
I've been listening to Phish a lot lately. A lot. It appears Aravine has inherited my love of jam bands, and Phish is this week's dancing music of choice.
It's so amazing to see her spinning around with a huge smile on her face. Every now and then she laughs and it's refined joy, not the polite little sound she'll learn within the next few years and use when someone tells a stupid joke. She's laughing because she's too happy to stay silent, because her emotions need release, and she gets that from spinning, dancing, laughing, and apparently, Phish.
Watching her gives me such a feeling of completeness, and I'm certain the rapture on her tiny face is a perfect mirror for what is building inside my chest. It is my greatest wish for her that she will always allow herself this joy, that she will be able to peel away the veneer that society will force upon her. That she will remember what it means to be true to herself. That she will always dance and spin and laugh with the same utter abandon as she does now.
Because this is my wish for her, and because it took me so long to remember it myself, I get up and dance with her. Sometimes we spin until we're dizzy. Sometimes she gets tangled in my skirts and we both topple over. Sometimes we end up flopping down on the floor, breathless, before getting back up for the next go-round.
It makes me laugh too.
It's so amazing to see her spinning around with a huge smile on her face. Every now and then she laughs and it's refined joy, not the polite little sound she'll learn within the next few years and use when someone tells a stupid joke. She's laughing because she's too happy to stay silent, because her emotions need release, and she gets that from spinning, dancing, laughing, and apparently, Phish.
Watching her gives me such a feeling of completeness, and I'm certain the rapture on her tiny face is a perfect mirror for what is building inside my chest. It is my greatest wish for her that she will always allow herself this joy, that she will be able to peel away the veneer that society will force upon her. That she will remember what it means to be true to herself. That she will always dance and spin and laugh with the same utter abandon as she does now.
Because this is my wish for her, and because it took me so long to remember it myself, I get up and dance with her. Sometimes we spin until we're dizzy. Sometimes she gets tangled in my skirts and we both topple over. Sometimes we end up flopping down on the floor, breathless, before getting back up for the next go-round.
It makes me laugh too.