That sucks, let's party

Today was not a good day. I blame it largely on the sudden disappearance of all oxygen on the planet. The white knuckle pain from cycling off steroids hasn't helped. And the Xolair fatigue was finishing me off. So I have spent the day curled up on the couch holding very still except for when I got up to give myself shots. Very glamorous. And I am negotiating with Doc to go back on steroids. Today was bad enough that I wanted to be, right this very minute, being annoyed by doctors in Denver. Poor me. Poor breathless sad little me.

Then it was time to do chores. The word "chore" brings to mind slopped pigs and mucked stables. At our house it means that I hold out hope that we get the dishes off the table before the next meal and I want toilet paper in the bathroom. I had bought the soundtrack to Wicked and had put it on as Coray walked through the room carrying food from the dining table to the kitchen. Suddenly, she rose up her hard won turnout kicked in some lovely swirl.

The fire spread. Coray leapt past Juli carrying plates. Juli spun past Sam. Jimmy hopped from foot to foot. Amy Grace turned in precise little circles. And Sophie spun holding onto my finger until she staggered off.

Coray spun and lept through our narrow living room, her effortless ringlets sailing, blue eyes twinkling. She raised her lovely leg and leaned into a artful twist of pajama and curls. I don't think I have ever seen a ballerina do that step before. They all should. She spun fast and stopped and stretched out her leg in a finish that was half perfect grace and half an act of violence against the world. She danced with a ferocity and confidence that put life on notice. She has worked hard, she owns the movement now. And anything in this world in reach of her perfectly pointed foot. Some nights ago she was worrying about the future. She worried about life and if she would be equal to it. Watched her leap and kick, it occurred to me that life ought to worry. Coray is coming. Spinning, strong and accidentally beautiful, she'll stand where she wants and dance when she pleases.

Juli wriggled by, her bent toes coveting Coray's pointe. But on the balls of her bare narrow feet she dances with celebration. It will seem a shame to tuck such happy toes in metal boxes and pink satin. She twists and spins with a body trained to be a ballerina and a heart meant for a leaping Irish dance. The music talks to her and she knows just what it means. She dances to answer. I see the girl I find so unexpected. She is so feminine and giggly, my Barbie girl. But she is so strong. She has the bravest heart. The legs that twist a funky ballet in my living room, hike ten miles, track bears, and never slow. She is an explosion, light racing across my horizon. She dances because the music tells her to and no one could convince her she couldn't.

My living room erupted into a showstopping number befitting any 1950's musical. Sam found his place tucked neatly behind his charming smile. Spinning cards and charming his mother, he was the appealing rascal amidst the girls. His eyes sparkled as he slid the deck of cards in a easy row and called for someone to pick a card. He doesn't know a single card trick. He smiles and that is immaterial. He is the card trick, his own winning surprise. Amy is his lovely assistant. Her moves neat and certain, her face so lovely. She is all show. Serious in her playfulness. She is an actress. She will dance if it is part of the act. But her green eyes are sure that she is the show.

Sophie and Jimmy join in, stealing cards and spinning dangerously close to swinging feet. Jimmy comes and takes my hand. He leads me to the floor and then we begin dancing. Him mostly. But he makes is irresistible. He hops from foot to foot with perfect rhythm and then he and Sophie are spinning away. Sophie spins and hugs, overcome with excitement and affection. She dances and hugs, her fairytale perfect face shining. Jimmy moves on to feats of strength, climbing higher and higher. Sophie steps in neat imitation of her sisters still spinning through the living room.

And it occurs to me, that I was far to sick tonight for anything but a party. It occurs to me, that when you love someone, they can dance for you when you can't. I danced for joy tonight, I hope they let me do it again.