The Dance

            P and I danced in the rain today.  There was no cell phone, no video camera, nothing to catch the moment.  That doesn’t matter.  For those two minutes, no cell phone, no video camera, no nothing could have told you what was going on.  I have no idea why I just walked out there.  It just felt like the right thing to do, so we danced in the rain.

            Penelope will never have the chance to actually dance.  She already had low muscle tone and it was a long shot, but cancer decided it would take that from her first.  Her legs are pretty lifeless and just hang there.  I don’t get to put her feet on mine and dance through the kitchen.  I don’t get to do whatever new dance is on the radio with her and act a fool for Ellen to videotape and probably put on snapchat or facebook for all to see.  I’ll never get to dance with her at a party and laugh because I probably stepped on her toe or am embarrassing her in front of some boy that she likes.  Let’s just stop there and say this pretty much sucks.  All those things Dads “don’t want to do but secretly do”, well Cancer said F you Dad, I’m going to take that from you. 

            Well F you Cancer you can’t take that two minutes away from me.  You can’t take the song in my head that I was humming to her.  You can’t take the drops of rain hitting her cheek and making her rub her face on my shoulder.  I was soaked, but let’s be honest, I was crying enough to drown us both, so at least that masked my tears.  The drops began to slow down and the sun was peeking out over the trees, so I knew our moment was about over. We came inside and simply resumed our normal routine, which yeah, there was that damn Caillou.

            Cancer took all those things from me, but it also gave me something more.  It gave me two minutes of pure Daddy Daughter time.  It gave me a memory that I’ll have for the rest of my life.  Whenever it rains, I’ll smile.  Hell, I’ll probably cry a little too, but the rain will mask that again so it won’t matter.  I don’t have to dwell on what dances won’t happen.  I got to dance right now, and that’s what matters in my life.  Sure I’ll be bitter when I pass out the flyers of the Daddy Daughter dances at school. I just only hope that when they do get to dance, they don’t worry about updates on their cell phone, or count the minutes until they can crack that well deserved beer afterwards.  I hope they get to look down at their daughter and not even hear music over the moment.  Cancer can’t take all those moments, it isn’t that powerful.  We take away those moments from ourselves, and that is just as bad.