Sometimes (most of the time),
I want all devices to disappear from my home.
The TV, various phones, computers.

I want to light candles and play records and dance without worrying that I’m missing something –
a phone call, an email, a text, a moment in a friend’s life now posted all over social media.

Sometimes (most of the time),

We dance in the kitchen –
it’s one of the smallest, most awkward places in our house,
but it’s always been a gathering place –
and there are no screens there unless we carry them in.

Sometimes (most of the time)
our steps aren’t fancy. we remember 25 year old lessons that provide moments of synchronized swing, but mostly we move and it doesn’t matter if the steps are fancy, or whether they’re synchronized. It’s a game of sorts – something to play together and it doesn’t matter that the steps aren’t perfect, or productive, they just are. Steps to a game, and no one loses the game.

Sometimes (most of the time)
we pull the kids into the steps – the frantic off and on beat movements of arms and legs – alive in moments – together.

Sometimes (most of the time)

they laugh and roll their eyes, but also they dance and laugh and move together.

Sometimes (most of the time)
this is life. A series of wanting to laugh and be and move in silly ways – against the current of responsibilities that feel so heavy and steps that feel so awkward on pathways so unknown.

Sometimes (most of the time)
I’d like to invite you in, to dance in my kitchen. It’s small and awkward and the floor is uneven, but I don’t want to wait until every step is perfect, every moment worth posting, every choice productive, and…

Sometimes (most of the time)
we all just need to dance.