Freeform Friday: Tapping Toes

Tapping Toes

by Belinda Roddie

Now, if you keep the piano chiming, and the synthesizers warbling, maybe, in the end, you'll create music that'll relax you rather than tense the muscles up like ropes leading downward to the ninth circle of Hell. See, I've written a little diddy that's meant to permit rays of hope to crawl into your bed and sleep beside you. They won't bite. They won't snore. They'll simply buoy your dreams, make the clouds fluffier and less heavy. It's only a little help, but maybe it'll mean something in the long run.

I ran a music store for twenty years, and five years into it, I met the love of my life. She danced with me to a song I can't remember the name of, but I know it was shorter than three and a half minutes. I've always been very, very aware of time. But my lover was able to grab the hands of my personal clock and pin them down for a while, holding them hostage for no ransom save for my poor excuse for a heart. We spent those extra suspended hours playing guitar, trilling on wooden flutes, and singing to one another. One of us may have been tone deaf. It didn't matter in the end.

When words failed, we had hugs. When hugs failed, we had kisses. And when kisses numbed our lips, we had music.

That never changed.

When she worked, she was there for me physically. When she danced, I was there for her physically. That meant something. Deep down. As the floor pulsed with a beat I could not recognize but made my heart swell like a sea. Sometimes, when I didn't know what I truly needed, she was there. And sometimes, when she wasn't there, the music filled the void.

If I could bounce endlessly, I would. For now, my wife and I bounce to a beat that we keep tucked in our heads. Time has managed to break free of its restraints, but it cannot stop our dancing. Not now. Not ever. We could declare bankruptcy. Grow viciously ill. Lose other loved ones. But our choreography is still written. Our symphony is still on paper. The conductor has it on stand by.

The music lives.

Our toes twitch.

We tap out the rhythm.

And so, we dance.

This Freeform Friday was inspired by Tomas Skyldeberg's instrumental piece, "Rays of Hope."  May you find hope in your own lives as we approach July.