December 6, 2022
Within every song, there is a memory.
A lyric that tickles the recesses of your mind.
A tune lifting the corners of your lips,
causing a hum to vibrate from your idle throat.
These are the melodies from our youth
and our forty-nine years of marriage.
I tease your recall, hoping for one more dance.
Your wrinkled hand taps out the beat on the blanket.
“Do you remember?” I ask.
Faded brown eyes blink and water.
“I think I do.”
You shift and sway, standing up.
I steady your balance.
Trembling, we lean into each other.
The timbre of your heart matches mine.
Your hospital gown scratches my cheek.
Feet planted, we rock to the rhythm.
“We danced to this.” You say.
I fight the tears as I clutch you tighter.
“Yes. Yes, we did.” I smile and look up.
“Thank you.” You kiss my forehead and sigh.
Song ended. You lie back down. Winded.
I play another one.
Your smile slips as you fall into a peaceful sleep.
For hours, I sit there, by your side,
listening to our songs. Praying.
For one more memory.
For one more dance.
A native Kentuckian, Kerrie Faye, writes from the shadows of the Rocky Mountain Flatirons in Colorado, pursuing her YA Fantasy author dreams one Nerds Gummy Cluster at a time. When she is not writing, she can be found binge watching reality tv, sipping a glass of wine, and sharing her popcorn with her lovable, food-motivated Saint Bernard, Maggie. Give her a follow on Twitter and Instagram @kerriefayebooks and checkout her website, https://kerriefayebooks.com.