This is something my husband wrote the other night, and while he's not an official member of the WC group, I hope nobody will mind me posting it. One thing I love about his writing is his voice; those of you who have met him (Meghan, Chan, Ivor, Kiersten) will probably hear him speaking it as you read. Also, he pinpointed some truths that I was just starting to recognize, and now I think I know what my next blood essay should be on... Anyway, he'd appreciate any comments/critiques you care to offer.
Tonight? Yeah. She cried again. Same as last time. It was her dreams. No, not those ones. I mean, the dreams that keep you alive. Goals. Aspirations. Since we got engaged, she does this thing where she cries, and I hold her, and then she feels better for a few days, and then she cries again. She always gives me different reasons, but there’s a sort of underlying pattern.
I need to explain something to you or this won’t make any sense. My woman can dance. I mean, she gets on that stage, and your eyes are just riveted. She moves, and your heart wants to jump out onto the stage and move with her. Truly, she is skilled. Others have form and technique. My Shani, she has life and love. They move her in ways that would make waves jealous.
Anyway, ever since she started to dance, I can’t even remember how old she was, I think she was 16, she’s had this dream. There was this old couple that would come to her dance studio. She saw them dancing together, and they were always happy. She wanted that. She wanted the dance to go on forever. Somewhere inside the voice of reason warned her. She knew it couldn’t go on forever, but her brain never told that to her heart.
So, she danced, and the hope got stronger. Being as stubborn as she is, she refused to let it go.
I love the girl to death, but there are days when she can make a mule look like a pushover. Have you ever tried to take something away from an independent 2 year old? Yeah. That’s kind of what it’s like sometimes.
Dreams are what have kept her moving for years now. First, she wanted to be a pianist. She devoted 9 years of her young life to chasing that one. What happened? It did what so many dreams conceived in childhood do. It died. That is the best word for it. Dead, and buried, but with a fresh vase of flowers on the grave.
I’m really just trying to help you understand where she’s coming from. Some dreams are more important than others. When the lesser dreams are neglected, they will die. She had the dream of marrying a certain type of person. I’m lucky enough to have been picked to fill those shoes. When she married me she knew that she would no longer compete in dance competitions. Yeah, she still held onto that one for a while. I’m sorry to say that I didn’t help that one go easily. I wanted it because she did. But it wasn’t my dream. It was hers, and it was deeper than I could have guessed. Oh, hindsight was always my clearest view of any issue.
So, another dream is dead. They can be so cruel. They look like strong foundations at first, but we begin to build on them only to have our hopes shake, and often shatter.
There were other dreams, too, but it’s cold outside, and I think it’s time for me to go back inside. I love her. I really do. I don’t know what her dreams cost her. I’ve had dreams murdered pretty brutally before, but you’ve been kind enough to listen to this many of my problems, and I’m sure you have enough dreams of your own to bury anyway. Thanks, friend. Goodnight.