For all the plans we make, the intentions we have, and the visions of perfectly organised wonderful days, sometimes the very best moments are completely unscheduled. Golden moments, free from expectation or restriction. Free from anything except the sheer joy that encapsulates you, like a bubble suspended in time.
It’s no secret that my girls love a little music, and no surprise either, however much their father tries to deny it, he and his family are all very musical, and even I can hold a tune with a bit of luck and a following wind. So when, on the last night of our New Year’s visit to H’s family, as we were hanging out at the kitchen table, Grandad turned the radio on, and the Sixties classics came pouring out, that was it. Time to put on your dancing shoes.
Kitty zoomed into the middle of the floor to spin circles, dancing away without a thought in the world except the joy of the music and the beat; Grandad scooped Elma into his arms for a whirl around, and the rest of us couldn’t resist joining in.
Kitty and I did a little hornpipe, so reminiscent of some of the silly mucking about dancing I used to do in the kitchen with Mum the holiday I gave her a Nancy Sinatra CD after I spotted a Nancy and Lee album in her record collection.
Kit had springs in her heels, and as soon as one parent/aunt/grandparent tired out she’d move onto the next, approximating some sort of a jive with Grandad before sweeping H around the kitchen in what I think was supposed to be a quickstep (she’s clearly spent a lot of time studying Strictly over Christmas), but was described as “Twirly, twirly Daddy!”
Her expression says it all, doesn’t it?
But for me the sweetest moment, the one that I treasure, the one that I know will be repeated a hundred times, and yet is so precious this very first time, is the moment that my lovely daughters danced together.
Elma, so thrilled to be standing up, and holding onto her Kitty as she gently bounced, and Kitty, serious with concentration, trying so hard not to move and to show that she can hold her baby sister, and in equal part wanting to shout “do gallopy gallopy Elma!” and rush away down the kitchen.
They may have been a bit wobbly, and it only lasted a second or two, but it was magic.