Square Dancing in the 5th Grade

"Today in gym class we're going to learn to square dance," our teacher announced to the class.

All of us girls squealed and the boys groaned. Girls and boys dancing together--whoo hooo! We girls couldn't wait to get started.

Teacher separated us into groups of four--2 boys, 2 girls, in each group. She put the record on the record player and made us walk through the steps while she called out directions.

"Swing your partner," was my favorite part because Kurt was my partner and I was itching to grab his arm through mine. Kurt was the cutest, tallest boy in our class and I was dancing with HIM! Linda and Patty were eyeing me. They didn't like it one bit that he was my partner but I didn't care. He was mine, all mine!

OK, for forty-five minutes on this day he was mine all mine.

Kurt followed the teacher's instructions and just danced. He was too cool to balk or horse around like the other boys in class--but it was his cool indifference that made me like him even more.

So, we "do see doed" and "promenaded" the whole class time and I was in fifth grade girl heaven. I could see it all now. This was just the beginning. Once he saw how fun I was, once he noticed how cute I really was, once he danced with me, I KNEW we'd be going steady for sure. Yep. Kurt was going to be my boyfriend. My head swirled with dreams of how it was going to be. It was fate!

But then class was over far too quickly and I soon heard,

"OK, everyone line up in ABC order. Time to go back to the classroom!"

I was a "B" at the front of the line and Kurt was a "T" at the back of the line so when he walked past me to line up, I smiled at him and waited for his smile back.

I waited and waited.

Love in Curlers

I knew it wouldn't be long now. My mother was sleeping all the time from the meds and death that were creeping up on her. Shallow breaths. Deep sighs. Sadness and loss filled the room. Filled my heart. Filled my future. She would die soon.

A few days before, I'd helped her bathe and change her bed clothes. She'd sat on the side of the bed while I stood before her methodically and gently combing and parting her hair into small sections to gently it wrap around each curler. She still wanted to feel pretty.

That's when she wrapped both her arms around my waist and pulled me close. Then she laid her head on my chest.

"Be my love," she whispered. "Be my love."

"I'm your love, Mama. I am your love."

My mother looked deep into my eyes, searching.

"I'm so tired," she said.

The sick old woman rested her head on me--her daughter--her caretaker--her friend--for a few more seconds and then leaned back so I could finish curling her hair.