rain sounds

It sounds like the critter that used to run up and down our rooftops that summer we lived in the cabin. No electric wiring, no connection to anything external, to ourselves. Today the sleet slides and shimmies and the white carpet of the ground bewilders me. As though, I don't remember the season that is upon us. Do I feel this every year? Midwest, flat heart, not a sleet/rain pitter patter. Tonight I wore my Nana's cameo necklace and all the stranger friends who danced with me loved my jewels and, Mary, the older woman who sat beside me earlier, between her man-friend and I, to watch her granddaughter perform an African dance performance after mine, told me about her loves and her loves lost and the continuous Swedish dance of her days. The rain in her eyes reminded me. The loss will not dissipate,but the drops will turn to flakes in time, and cover and fill the emptiness that follows. Continuous movement- of thoughts- of body- of energy, this woman told me that she doesn't see an ounce of anger in me. She said I onlly had good love to give to others. I want to believe her. At the moment, with stagnant eyes, dry and drowning, there's an ache. To keep a step, to keep the walk in the sleet and the snow and the rain with those who kept the stride before and for those who will keep the stride after me, I will move along. I will keep dancing.