In my earliest memories, I was dancing.
The kind of dancing one does if one is a little girl.
Spinning in circles and leaping from one side of her stage to the other.
I do not remember what the motivation was.
I like to think it was a response to the beauty in the moment.
The setting, or the stage in this particular memory was our carport.
In the early evening as the glowing of sunset filled the sky.
The audience consisted of my favorite people, my mom and dad.
These were the days before air conditioning, and it must have been cooler outside.
Maybe that is what drew us outside.
Whatever the reason was, we spent a lot of time there during this fleeting moment of the day.
All together.
I'm sure I could have danced to my own thoughts, but on this occasion, there was music.
Provided by my mom's old Victrola. The selection of music was very limited,
so the record of choice was one song every time.
Buffalo Gals.
It was a moment of sensory perfection.
Visually as the sunset surrounded us, and
audibly with the calm sound of my parent's voices and the joy of the music playing.
Just a moment of time.
Brief joy.
But it was captured forever in my memory.
The sunset soon fading and moonlight taking over.
I was just a little girl.
I did what little girls do without need for direction.
And...
...dance to the light of the moon.
Sometimes when sun is filling the sky with the pink and purple hues of a day's close?
Or those moments when a song or a symphony, instrumental or human voices fill the space...
I still dance...
