The rhythm of my heart

One of the best things about being the mother of the groom is that you get to dance with your son at the wedding.

One of the worst things about being the mother of the groom is that you have to dance with you son in front of a room full of people who have nothing else to do at the moment but watch you two shuffle around the dance floor and, maybe, muse a little about the wedding cake and how big their piece will be.

My son Charlie chose “The Rhythm of My Heart” for our dance because he said it reminded him of being in our kitchen at home and him banging pots on the floor while I danced around and made dinner. Charlie was four-years old when Rod Stewart released Vagabound Heart and I remember playing that album incessantly.

So, we both got to reminisce about a sweet time in our lives while we made our way around that intimidatingly empty dance floor and I gave myself a stern lecture to ignore everyone else for the moment and just really enjoy the experience,

So, I did. I loved dancing with Charlie that night as much as I did when he was a giggling toddler and I swung him around linoleum floor of our kitchen. The rhythm of my heart beats in grateful acknowledgement of all those special moments and the sweet son and his siblings with whom I enjoyed them.

After our little spin (during which Charlie lived in fear that he would accidentally land on my obnoxiously bare feet with his size 17 feet), everyone joined us on the dance floor and, as I recall, they never left.

We danced through decades and around the floor, in couples, in groups and in circles. We JUMPED AROUND, twirled and dipped. Someone offered their tie for a limbo line. My sister Jenny danced herself back to junior high when she wore her hair in an asymetrical bob and owned the floor, my sister Kathy danced with her husband, her goddaughter, her nephew and me.

The bride’s family had just as much fun and I got to thinking about how dance floors work like Waring Blenders at weddings. They take disparate people, toss them together, mix them all up and blend up a brand new family.

As I had hoped they would, these pictures from Cherryville Photography, captured the joy and the excitement on the dance floor.

I hope you all find time to dance today, in your kitchen with your kids banging wooden spoons on pots and pans, by yourself or with a partner on a more formal floor.

As Gene Kelly said, “You dance love and you dance joy and you dance dreams.”

I know, I know. The bare feet are unseemly. But, I’m pretty sure they were bare back in 1991 when Charlie and I were dancing around our kitchen. Also, my poor pedestrian feet are not used to fancy shoes. But, look how happy I am to be dancing with my boy!
And then, the wild rumpus began.
The boys got airborne…
And stuck the landing.
I love this picture because Tara looks beautiful, Katherine is airborne and Debbia (Tara’s mother) is having a blast dancing.
And, speaking of having a blast dancing…
Someone sacrificed his tie for a limbo line…
And the groom jumped in.
A sweaty Vinnie danced with his grandma.
His brother watched and then…
Cut in.
He gave her a twirl.
There was a lot of twirling.
And jumping.
And singing.
My niece Erin rocked.
So did my nephew Phil.
My sister Kathy danced with her husband Keith and I tooked pictures of them like a proud mom at the prom.
Katherine danced with her godmother Kathy.
Charlie danced with his godmother Elaine.
And I’m not sure what’s going on here but I like it!
The rhythym of my heart will be beating with joy for a long time in the aftermath of this lovefest.

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