A Letter to Mae

Dear Mae,

I remember the first time I saw you like it was yesterday. Your spiky red hair made you easy to spot on the dance floor and your purple eye shadow glittered through the smoky strobe lights. You danced with your eyes closed and you mouthed every word, feeling every beat of that song. I couldn't hear it because all the blood was pounding in my ears as my heart thumped along with your moving hips.

That was twenty years ago and I've loved you every day since.

Our wedding twelve years ago in Mexico was the happiest day of my life. I remember reading my vows to you and when I promised to dance with you at least once a month you threw your head back and laughed. I was not much of a dancer and you knew it. Then I surprised you at the reception didn't I, when I did that special dance to all the special songs in our relationship. Those were expensive private lessons at the best studio in Mapleton to get me good enough to dance for you. It was worth every dollar to see you clapping and laughing along while I played the fool. I promised to love you and take care of you for the rest of our lives together. I vowed to make you laugh every day.

But you haven't been able to laugh for awhile.

Remember that vacation in Italy three years ago? By the time we left, the men in the Cafe under the hotel were calling you Bella Ballerina. You danced and sang to every bit of music they played on their old accordions as if it was the most beautiful music you had ever heard. Even with a belly full of pasta, you danced every night under the stars in Venice. You laughed and your eyes sparkled with joy.

But you haven't been able to dance for awhile.

It's like a storm blew in and laid all its weight on you and it's all you can feel. It blew out your lights and knocked out your sound. You can't hear or feel the music anymore. You have trouble getting out of bed most days and you eat nothing but potato chips and drink only black coffee. You cry and you sleep. There are some days when I can I get you and in the bath and help you wash your hair. Your eyes are unfocused, you look at me but you don't see me. All you see is the baby we lost. My heart beaks for us Mae but something more than that has broken in you. The doctors say you will come back in time.

I will wait for you. We will laugh again. We will dance.

Your loving husband,
Ted