Older person getting older: Thoughts
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The parade is a Strange Waltz
The sounds of Andrew Llyod Weber echoes the house. The
children scream with joy when a Score from "Evita" begins
to play. This begins a dance centered by the fireplace. I
make myself hidden; if noticed, they surely will stop.
Cherakee takes stage (on the couch). "I want to be a part
of it, Benios Aries, Big Apple." she cries out with hands
stretching to adoring (imagined) fans. Bubby bows in
obedience, and sings his part, in not so perfect 3 yr old
How lucky I am, to know my children. Lucky, to know their
fingers and toes. How fortunate I am to kiss there innocent
lips and cheeks. My greatest treasure; to sing the songs,
and dance the steps with them.
The parade is a strange waltz, done in double step. Yes,
this is becoming a party for three.
Then as all times do, we make room for the love song. In
honest simplicty they sit and sway with the music. They
sing what they know, and listen to what they do not.
No man could ever be richer than this.
So I must cut short, its my cue to for the stage. I will
write again when the children turn in for the night.
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