No shortage of doubt

lies in my pessimist’s heart.

You ground my storming

soul, once ready to give up,

until you smile and say, “Fly”.

This poem is linked up to Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads’ Tuesday Platform.

Anyone who’s met me in real life knows that like Cinderella’s carriage, I turn into a pumpkin when it gets late enough—though usually I’m lucky to make it to 10 p.m., let alone midnight. So this one night my Husband and I were driving home from our friends’ place well past 10. I was fading fast and asked my husband to find something on the radio. I don’t know how he did it, but he flipped through and found a Latin Freestyle block. At the first few notes from Debbie Deb I started to perk up. When Cynthia and Johnny O started up the duet that always got me moving at high school dances, I was singing along. But not the husband.

See, while these tunes were a staple of my coming of age in Elmwood Park, NJ his teen years on Philadelphia’s Main Line didn’t expose him to much Latin freestyle, even if he had bothered making it to a dance. But he knows what I like. He knows, like the character in the quote above, what the difference in teas are even though he’s a dedicated coffee drinker. And he knows how important writing is to me. I’ve had more than a few times I’ve felt discouraged by lack of support from places I thought I’d get it from (Yo, maybe wait until I leave the room to discuss how you can’t be bothered having my book in your house? K’thanks). He’s not only been the cheerleader I needed after moments like that, he’s also there backing me up when I need quiet time to write, and making sure I have the tea I need to get to the word count I want.

So I never made out with him under the bleachers while dancing to Clave Rocks. I doubt he knows the tune to ShowMe, let alone the words. But this pumpkin made it to midnight that night. And you can sure as hell bet I kissed the prince.

Song Choice: Head to Toe by Lisa Lisa andthe Cult Jam