The winter is for the young and foolish. Give me a warm beach, with white sands and crystal blue waters. Take me away from the Nordic winds and bitter chills, and give me Latin music with a strong beat, a full dance floor, and a beautiful man to jump and sway with me into the early morning hours. Give me a strong drink of rum with a shot of lime, and a Cuban cigar smoldering beside my glass. I want to wake up in the morning and be greeted by a hot sun and warm breezes drifting in along the ocean shoreline. During my day, I want to move through a city that does not speak my language, but challenges me to communicate with words that are new and foreign to my ear. All around me I want to see smiling faces, and bright colors, and strange fruits and vegetables. I want to feel as though every day is a fresh day, and I am more alive now than I was yesterday. I want to wake from my northeastern daze and feel more vibrant with every breath of the Caribbean air. I long to be a foreigner, living in a strange and exotic land.
“Oh play me some mountain music
Like Grandma and Grandpa used to play
Then I’ll float on down the river
To a Cajun hide-a-way”
‘MOUNTAIN MUSIC’ by the group ALABAMA
Photo by L J Priest
We must be responsible – correct?
There is no room for our passionate mayhem in the civilized society that we now reside in.
Our local culture dictates that we keep our lasciviousness under wraps.
No one can know of our secret joys.
We must not tell them that we like to dance naked in your driveway at night while the fireworks that you set off rocket in the skies above us.
We shouldn’t mention the fact that I like it best when you take me in an open field high above a highway while hundreds of cars pass below us.
And let’s not even whisper about the open road where we litter our love making behind us like our used coffee cups that go scattering into the wind.
And we won’t ever discuss my favorite place because who would dare to visit it again if they knew?
No, it is quite enough that we allow our lack on inhibition to surface while on the dance floor, flowing with the beat of the band, much to the delight or embarrassment of all the people who surround us and watch.
I hope I dance
On a large stage
With an astonished audience
And a band that plays skillfully in the background
A soft rock
A light tune
A Christopher Cross kind of sound
Under an illustrious moon
While a gentle breeze blows
I hope I dance in a velvet fluid motion
I hope I sway in perfect rhythm and harmony
I hope that I glide and weave
And wind my way around you
I want to dance with you
Life is not about how you survive the storm; it’s about how you dance in the rain.
Photo taken at Earth Day Celebration 2014. Found quote this morning on a card that came in my mail.