We often dance together in our kitchen. Our dog interrupts us with his tail wagging furiously and his little paws shifting impatiently. He lets out a dramatic whine, as if pleading to be part of our joy. We glance at each other and laugh, his persistence too adorable to ignore. His happy barks join the music, turning the moment into a symphony of love, laughter, and belonging. This, I think, is what family feels like—imperfect, messy, and absolutely perfect. Although, this painting is not of a dog, it creates this emotion for me.
I love to dance with you. Your hand in mine, your warmth against me, each step takes me back to the laughter, the quiet moments, the promises we made under a thousand different skies. I am reminded of the love we chose, the love we built, and the love we vowed to last a lifetime. With every gentle turn, every whispered smile, I feel the weight of our journey and the unspoken truth that this love—our love—will always be home.
I dream of us gliding effortlessly across the dance floor, every step a perfect harmony of movement and emotion. I’m not really a good dancer, but I can see myself dancing in my dreams. The rhythm of the music mirrors the rhythm in my heart. The laughter we share, the playful spins, speak of a bond so deep; I can tell we really get each other. I am overwhelmed by the joy of dancing not just with my feet, but with my soul, entwined with yours.
