I was dusting today. Then I was dancing. Having the energy to dust let alone dance is remarkable. I turned on my stereo, put the CDs that were in there from the last time on shuffle (yes, I own real live CDs, and cassette tapes, and LPs) and when my favorite Band of Horses song "Dilly" started I just wriggled and giggled, Kermit flailed my arms, picked up Peanut and held him in my arms while I swayed, did the white man two step and shook my bootie. I played that song probably five times, and I didn't stop smiling even while my eyes were closed as I sang. If you read this blog you might remember that my Mom went with me to see Band of Horses in August of last year and how much her gesture meant to me. Sitting on the hardest of hard ground in extreme heat surrounded by drunken unaware irritating and half naked youth. I half went out of fear of never being able to see another concert again and to bring back the feeling I love so much of live music.
I love being able to dust my own living room. A year or so ago, I wasn't even doing that for myself. As I take the cloth and wipe away the dust, I think of all the particles of each person, animal or even vegetation that makes up what we call dust. Pieces of past and present beings, and their leavings are settling on my desk, my dresser, bookshelf. The duty of keeping your dwelling clean can be seen as a burden, but being ABLE is something else all together. I saw each swipe of my dust cloth as a gift today, not only because I could, but because I was picking up pieces of me as well.