By Betsy Gonwa, 
SKYPE phone call with our daughter and two granddaughters, Anastasia and Mary. Anastasia was wearing what she likes to call her Frozen dress, perhaps because it is the color of water and icicles. And when she started to sing it for us, my husband and I were trying to sing along, but for lack of knowing all the words, he pulled up a YouTube of it, with the music and the lyrics. During the singing, Anastasia got up and began twirling and dancing in her dress. It was so much fun to watch her. When the song ended, my husband asked, “Again?” After the second time through, he said, “Grandma and Grandpa were dancing earlier this morning.” For we had been dancing in the kitchen, to Despacito.
“Anastasia wants to see you dancing to Despacito,” said our daughter. And so we found a YouTube of Luis Fonsi. She could see us dancing, but couldn’t hear the music. After relocating to a room without a carpet, and some trial and error finessing to adjust the volume and the view — Despacito tuned in on the computer, and the SKYPE call transferred to the cell phone, placed strategically in the crack of the laptop, using the computer screen for its backrest – we began to dance. Though we were in our living room in Milwaukee and they were in a bedroom in a suburb of Washington, D.C., we danced together.
Oh I want to remember this! We should have a video of this! These thoughts came to my mind. And then I was reminded by the Spirit to just be present. And I was. Present to being with, present to missing, present to joy, present to the moment of connection. And I felt tears building up in my chest, preparing to spill out of the corners of my eyes. And I knew then that this was becoming a body memory. Cementing itself into my cells. And I relaxed and sank into the present and enjoyed the dance. The closeness of my husband’s touch, the twirling of 3-year-old Anastasia, and the swaying, smiling Mary, supported by her mother’s arms. Living in the moment. Present to the moment.
