I'm still awaiting the magic moment when I just know he's with me. Not the moment when I hope he's there or feel like he might be there. I'm talking about the moment when I know he's there. I got a vague taste of the moment over the weekend, but the sense was more of sand trickling through my hand rather than something to grasp fully. Not the 'real thing' yet.
This past weekend was devoted to dance recitals. Three of them, to be precise. Isaac performed Saturday afternoon, Abby performed Sunday afternoon, and Abby and I performed during all three shows, as members of the Mother/Daughter class. We were country girls, shakin' it for... well, Luke Bryan, I guess.
The whole 'return to the stage' thing was important to me for lots of reasons. I grew up dancing. Though I dabbled in jazz, ballet and pointe, I am and always have been a tapper at heart. There's something utterly freeing about being on stage, performing a routine that I know by heart (even if it wasn't, in this weekend's case, tap). I don't usually think of myself as being particularly good at much of anything, but I was a good tapper.
Anyway, given my Logan's love of dance during his time on this earth, it's no surprise that I felt closer to him while I was on stage. It's not so much that I could feel him, because I couldn't. It's more that I knew that if he were still with us in a physical way, he'd be totally enthralled with seeing his mom on stage. And that meant something to me. It's like a little pearl of delight that I can hold in my heart.
So that's that. I've been chronicling our summer on a different blog, located here: One Summer of Fun.