Short Stories

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WHY I HAD TO DANCE
By Jeannie Kirchen

Winter is a child’s wonderland, full of magic and wonder; from snowball fights to snow angels, to snow forts and snowmen. No matter how cold the weatherman predicted it would be, I always begged to go outside and play, discovering the marvels of winter for myself. I never minded that my ears were freezing or that my nose felt like it was going to fall off, I wanted to remain outside with my friends. How could we stop playing fox and geese while I was the fox? I loved winter. What child doesn’t?
But as I grew older, the magic and wonder of winter waned. Where did it go, and had it been sudden or did I lose interest over time? I’m older, I thought to myself. Something about getting older must have changed my perspective. What I had found joyful now filled me with dread. Now winter winds chill me to the bone. I can no longer take the frigid temperatures.
The harshness of winter fills me with sadness. From the second snowfall until the last flake that hits the ground, I pray for an early spring. The first time the thermometer drops below 45 degrees, I start complaining of being cold and my body aching. I no longer see the wonder of winter, only its faults.
I must admit, I find the initial snowfall beautiful, covering the ground with its lustrous beauty, the sight takes my breath away. Even so, the perfect winter for me would begin Christmas Eve and end the day after New Year.
Until one year, when something happened that changed my perspective. At Christmastime of 2008, my daughter sent me a round-trip airline ticket to Arizona for my Christmas / birthday present. I did not hesitate to say, yes! Warm weather does wonders for my overall well-being, and being able to see my daughter and grandchildren again was a bonus I couldn’t pass up. I found myself repeating over and over again, “Arizona, here I come.”
The ticket was for January 20, 2009, and I could hardly wait for that date to arrive. It was also an inauguration day, which made for a very exciting plane ride.
Flight attendants passed out headsets so that the passengers could listen to the radio. Everyone on board eagerly waited for the president to begin his talk.
Still, the anticipation of seeing my family far outweighed any excitement I felt about hearing the President’s acceptance speech. My heart was soaring with delight knowing that soon I would be able to hug and kiss my daughter and grandchildren.
Seeing my daughter, her husband and my granddaughter at the airport, was like seeing them for the first time. I was so overwhelmed with happiness; I couldn’t hold back my tears of joy. I was already anxious for our adventures to begin.
I was also eager to see the exquisite beauty that lay ahead of me: the mountains, the desert, and the cacti. I wanted to be able to see as much as I could in the time we had together. We took long hikes, went on weekend trips and laughed. It felt so wonderful to be with my daughter and her family again. I treasured every moment, took lots of pictures, and loved them as much as possible each day we were together.
The trip went by much too quickly. I wasn’t ready to leave my daughter and her family. Just thinking of traveling back to Michigan in the winter made me feel uneasy. My heart was heavy; I tried to think of ways to lengthen my stay. I even called my husband, trying to convince him to move to Phoenix.
Though I knew that would never work. Michigan is his home; where his roots are. I knew he had no interest in living anywhere else, ever. He loved Michigan, so how could I take him away from a place that he loved and lived all his life?
I wondered if I could accept living in Michigan for the rest of my life. A part of me didn’t want to. My heart was grieving. Missing my daughter and grandchildren was going to be unbearable. I hated not being around them, not being able to see them grow, not being able to hear the sound of their voices, or their laughter. I felt I was being torn in two directions; one: with my husband in Michigan and two: with my daughter’s family in Arizona. There was no easy answer.
Of course, my husband and Michigan had to be the only answer. As much as I would miss my daughter and her family, I loved my husband. There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Thinking about it, I realized I couldn’t imagine my life without him by my side.
But, the night before returning home, I found it difficult to be cheerful. Everyone wanted to enjoy the last moments we had together. We wanted our memories to be cheerful, so I hid my feelings and put on a happy face, having as much fun with my family as I could. Though that night, when I was alone in my bed, the tears came. The next morning I fought back my tears with smiles and hugs, but the dam burst at the airport. I let the tears flow without reservation. I was already missing them terribly and I hadn’t even left yet. What a mess I was! My daughter understood. She even got a little misty-eyed too. When I was composed once again, I finally boarded the plane.
When I arrived back in Michigan, it was midnight and the snow was blowing everywhere. Fortunately, the plane had been able to land safely. When my husband came to pick me up, he was adamant about driving back so he could sleep in his own bed. We drove from Detroit to Sunfield, in a terrible winter storm, even though I would have much preferred staying the night in a motel. Driving around thirty-five to forty miles per hour, it took us until three a.m. to arrive home. All the while, I couldn’t help compare the warm, relaxing weather of Arizona with the anxiety and frigid cold of this car ride in Michigan. Even though it was wonderful to see my husband again, my heart was still back in Arizona.
Several days went by and I mourned for my daughter and her family. I missed Arizona. I yearned for another mountain hike. I longed for everything about that desert land, which felt like heaven to me. Depression was starting to show its ugly head deep within my soul. Something had to be done, and soon. Melancholy isn’t the way I want to live my life. It’s not who I am or who I want to be. I knew that I had to learn to embrace this season, like I do the others, if I were to survive upcoming winters
I knew I had to break free of this cycle of depression, yet I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to subject myself to wallowing in misery every time the temperature dropped below my liking. I made a decision I wasn’t going to let that happen. I was going to learn to embrace winter and all it had to offer, rather than focus on my perceived failings of it. Although I knew moving to Arizona wasn’t going to happen, I also knew there were changes I could make, starting within me. Then it came to me; what I was going to do.
Putting on my boots, coat, gloves, hat and scarf, I ventured out into the chilly winter air. I raised my hands into the sky and thanked God for this day. Right there, on that cold, wintry, snowy afternoon, I danced. I had to; I had to discover the glory this season could bring into my life. Twirling around in circles, I laughed and cried tears of joy. This was a celebration, a sacred moment, and for that moment, time stood still. In this moment, I shared the joy of winter with God. I praised him for everything that He created for me to enjoy, whether I chose to like it or not. And feeling the warmth of God’s love flow through me, I forgot about the cold and I danced.

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