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It was on the newest screen where I saw the oldest footage of him dancing to the beats of “Beat It” like his favorite artist did:
A self-taped, pixelated video with a slate—the first time I’ve heard you speak at a young age just like I—and you wished her a “happy mother’s day” then showed off your moves—crisp and clean and smooth—those which ignited the fire in me to sway the way you’d do, like you had nothing to lose.
And so I dance and prance around my room, with only music and you in my mind because it’s I who’s trying to find the passion you had when you went with the groove and let yourself loose—
Oh, how I wish to slide with your might
And step with you stride—
Pivot with your grit
And wave with all you could brave and give.
Years have passed since that one time when I was a child
At her house, down by the mountain-side
Where I saw him dance for the first time—
And though he cared for me only three years
Before having been taken from my side,
I know I’m never alone in my room
Where I dance all night
With you in my mind’s sight.
©2022 A.X. Bates
When we visited our son’s lovely campus we usually stayed at the guest house. The same guest house where I saw peacocks at my second-floor window. Our well-furnished room had a tiny kitchen alcove…