I went to a wedding and reception yesterday. It was beautiful. I'd been looking forward to it for months. My excitement was not so much to be with family, or that I love weddings but to have the opportunity to dance with Steven.
I love dancing with him. I'm sure all women like the feel of closing their eyes as they move around the dance floor in the arms of the man they love. The feel of his cheek next to mine, the music, the low lights all add to the romance.
But Steven wasn't able to go with me yesterday. He was in bed most of the time. At one point, he thought he'd get ready and make it to the reception, but by the time he was through the shower his body told him to lay back down.
I waited, knowing he would surprise me, but when all the events leading up to the dancing were done, I knew it was better to leave then to watch everyone else do what I couldn't. I would have wanted to go up to the dancing couples and interrupt long enough to ask, "Do you know what you have here? Are you treasuring this person? Have you touched their face and told them what they mean to you?"
When I came home I barely had my coat off and he had pulled me in his arms to slow dance to whatever song was in our heads. He asked me how long we should do this and I said, "Forever...or until one of us wants a beer." I'm very proud of myself for not crying until I went to bed.