Please Don't Go
because of how your song makes you feel
Halie was leaning over the sink, mop bucket in one hand and soap in the other, hair tied on the top of her head and running water creating steam that curled up around her. Music played quietly in the background as she hummed along, bouncing up and down in time with the beat.
Sunday was always cleaning day, no matter what else we had going on during the week. She would wake up in the morning, make pancakes, and create a list of things that needed to be done that was evenly split between the two of us. She said it was relaxing, a way to unwind from the week before, but I just thought it was a pain.
I had my list and a pen in my hand, deciding on my plan of attack as she put the now-filled bucket down, expertly moving the wet mop around the floor. Her humming gradually grew louder, rising and falling with the music, until the song died out and she waited for the next one to take over. As the first few notes of the next song played, she looked up and her expression changed from relaxed to excited. She ran over to the speaker that was filling the room with sound and turned it up as loud as it could go.
She ran over to me, removed the list and pen from my hands and replaced them with her own, dancing along to the beat of the music. I stood there for a second, just watching her as she moved, until she looked up at me and smiled.
“Come on, you have to dance,” she yelled, laughter bubbling up through her words. Her smile was infectious, spreading from her face to mine, and I couldn’t help but join in. The sun was bright, shining through the window as we moved around the kitchen, illuminating Halie’s figure. She looked like an angel that had come to save the sad souls who refused to dance.
Looking at her smiling face and the way she moved, I don’t know that I’ve ever loved her more than I did in that moment.
Sunday was always cleaning day, no matter what else we had going on during the week. She would wake up in the morning, make pancakes, and create a list of things that needed to be done that was evenly split between the two of us. She said it was relaxing, a way to unwind from the week before, but I just thought it was a pain.
I had my list and a pen in my hand, deciding on my plan of attack as she put the now-filled bucket down, expertly moving the wet mop around the floor. Her humming gradually grew louder, rising and falling with the music, until the song died out and she waited for the next one to take over. As the first few notes of the next song played, she looked up and her expression changed from relaxed to excited. She ran over to the speaker that was filling the room with sound and turned it up as loud as it could go.
She ran over to me, removed the list and pen from my hands and replaced them with her own, dancing along to the beat of the music. I stood there for a second, just watching her as she moved, until she looked up at me and smiled.
“Come on, you have to dance,” she yelled, laughter bubbling up through her words. Her smile was infectious, spreading from her face to mine, and I couldn’t help but join in. The sun was bright, shining through the window as we moved around the kitchen, illuminating Halie’s figure. She looked like an angel that had come to save the sad souls who refused to dance.
Looking at her smiling face and the way she moved, I don’t know that I’ve ever loved her more than I did in that moment.