Club Vincent

Do you dance?

We do.

Unfortunately it is not a public affair.

And also, fortunately it is not a public affair.

The music comes on through the 1970's Marantz stereo that my brother graciously gifted to us the one of us who cares about things like speakers and receivers and quality of sound.

'Bigger momma bigger!'

I turn it up.

'Does it get louder?!' Which means 'Is it going to get faster and more intense as most songs do at some point?'

'It will, but it stats out slow'

Mumford and Sons is singing about being a Little Lion Man and waiting for you and awakening your soul. And we jump and twirl (LOTS of twirling) and head bobbing and knee bending.

We turned on the music as a background to an event that is difficult for everyone to endure. It's called 'making lunch'. Music is a good distraction. Unless you are Sis, then it works a little too well.

'I need someone to dance with me!!' 'BUBBBBBB!!!!! You want to dance with me? Come to the living room and dance with me! MOMMMMMMMMMAAAA COME DANCE WITH ME! I need someone to dance with me'

She is relentless. The music runs out of the speakers and into her little body and mingles with the rhythm already residing there. Her arms flap as she runs in circles and her head bobs and her mouth moves two beats behind the singers.

All the while Bubs bobs his head in perfect rhythm while helping to pour and stir and lick (the spoon) of a delicious fall treat: butternut squash soup. 'NOOOO SISSSSSSYYYYY. I help momma!!'

I twirl in between chops and pours and stirs.

She is not satisfied. She demands again and again that we forget what we are doing and just be. Be together. Be silly. Be rhythm. Take a moment to be in the moment. We will eat. We will do the dishes. We will take naps and go on with our day. But RIGHT NOW. BE HERE. THIS song. Not the next one. THIS one. Listen. Feel it. It's only us at home. Three quarters of our family. It's a safe place. Let go of what is going on and holding back from seeing the face of a child in her purest form. Life.

Bubs asks for help getting down from the counter and we join her.

In this moment she is ECSTATIC.  She talked us into the moment with her.

My posse most often remind me to LIVE. To stop and FEEL before moving on. Feel SAD. Feel THRILLED. Feel SCARED. Feel GRATEFUL. Feel OVERWHELMED and VULNERABLE. Feel LOVED. Feel FRUSTRATED.

And then, having felt the feeling without making it anything other than what it is, move on.

To butternut squash soup for instance.