Luca showed off his funky fresh moves after they completed the sand creature. I could see it all in his face. He knew he had it going on, and I was so proud of him. When your children don’t look like you, it’s nice to find other characteristics in them that are uniquely yours. Alessia joined him, but she’s not as good a dancer yet. She has until her teen birthday to get it together, heh.
The sun’s descent was my cue to get dinner going. Afterward, we continued the dance party under the moonlight. A Latin beat played over the radio, and my hips instinctively began the Rumbasim. As they swayed, and my feet stepped in time to the music, I felt…different? Honestly, I felt more like myself than I had in weeks. That’s when I realized I hadn’t danced in a very long time. I used to dance for everything. I’d wake up dancing; go to bed dancing; dance the sadness away; dance myself into confidence. Dancing was a way of life for me, and somewhere along the way I lost that. And honestly? I can’t blame the divorce because it happened long before then. It’s as if I abandoned everything that defined me in favor of a different life. Like, I stopped being Emmy to be Mrs. Murillo and then Mama. I’m not sure if that’s bad, but clearly I abandoned too much. So I danced. The more I danced, the happier I felt. A genuine happy! So happy I could cry, but I didn’t want to alarm the children. I’ll do my best to never lose myself again. Perhaps after the kids leave, I should take inventory of my life and figure out who I am now and what I need to be happy.
I meant what I said about going out with a bang! The fireworks were a big hit with the kids. Well, the stationary ones were fine. Luca was very concerned about the spinners.
I know we shouldn’t laugh at our children, but I couldn’t help it. His poor little cute face! I wish I could have captured it. I brought the camera, but it wasn’t setup yet. After I lit all the big fireworks, I gave them sparklers to play and paint the sky. They enjoyed that a lot.
To close out the night, I broke out the tripod and took pictures of my babies. When Mommy died, I inherited her personal effects, which included 15 gagillion pictures of myself as a toddler. No one needs that many pictures of their child, but I do appreciate them. I guess it’s more the sentiment behind them I appreciate. Mommy’s shoes are impossible to fill, but I’m going to capture as much of my children’s lives as I can, so when they grow up and leave me, I have something to cherish. And when I leave them, they’ll know exactly how much.
