To Dance Again (by Rylan Hunter)
He was on his way to see me when he left me forever. I hate it when people call it an accident. A messy spill is an accident. The wreckage of metal that became the tomb of my lover is not an accident; it’s the end. There’s no such thing as a beginning without an end but that’s meaningless to a broken heart. Words of solace only make others feel better because, for me, they are razor blade reminders that he is gone.
We loved to dance.
There would be no awards given for the shuffling we called dancing but the music played soft for us on a warm summer night; he held me and I held him and it was everything. Late at night with the world asleep, we would dance as the fog slid around us. Warm summer nights make my heart ache now. Even though he disappeared in the icy clutch of winter, I miss him most on those nights when his bare feet bumped into mine with the smell of jasmine in the air. His large hands roamed across my back while we whispered and laughed at the universe that wasted precious time by closing their eyes and missing the miracle of a dance.
I still need him.
Life moved on and my bed wasn’t empty forever but who can compare a moon to a sun? We welcome both and when one disappears, the other comes into view but each is very different. He was my moonlight. His light bathed me with silvery caresses in the darkness. When my sunshine loves make me laugh, give me hope … I know it’s not my time to ease into the moonlight … yet.
I miss him.
Winter is coming again and it scares me. I don’t know what lies ahead when I reach that moment when there are no more firsts. First birthday without him, first holiday without him, first year without him. I don’t want to think about it, but tonight … tonight there is fog and Indian Summer has given me one last grasp at warmth, so I will meet him in the moonlight while the fog slides around us and our secret is kept a little longer. And we will dance.
Photography by Shawn V Wells
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]To Dance Again (by Rylan Hunter),