Dancing With Myself
Maybe A Neighbor Can See (But Who Cares)
Oh And A Dog Rescue Too
We have all heard of not in my backyard. Well I started my pandemic exercise groove with headphones, doing hip swirls, zumba like moves to a well curated playlist or Pandora station all in my backyard. In fact life unfolded weirdly and beautifully in the yard. My hedges are tall enough on one side for privacy while I mentally blocked the big high rise on the other side of the fence where anonymous enough neighbors could spy on me rocking out. Alone. I decided not to care because I will never meet these people. And frankly, everyone is very busy with their own lives, but I'm a writer so I get to make up stories about who sees what. But what if someone kept an eye on my antics? Would that be creepy or funny? I choose to go with the latter.
During our pandemic, it seems everything I put in my backyard that I chose over the years to comfort, entertain, challenge and soothe me came into bloom on cue. My secret garden and courtyard is my disco, my sanctuary, my laundromat and my bar and grill. Living alone I have managed to entertain myself, help with elderly neighbors, get my exercise, minimally socialize, and dine on everything from seafood to kabobs. I take classes, donate time, resources and I hang my clothes out but I mostly dance like no-one is watching. Or at least I hope that's true. Maybe one or two people have seen me, this woman on a stair stepper or dancing wildly to INXS or The Smiths, maybe even Madonna or some Brazilian artist? It's like there she goes! That lady is dancing again, oh now she's on the stair stepper. Omg, does she realize we can see her?
Poetry Sessions with David Whyte
Ok so after several months of being a one woman show, and some thought, ok a lot of thought, a dog popped into this little theater of Wendy in the yard. After losing Luigi Thanksgiving Day 2019, I decided to retire my dog related duties until my dotage and enjoy my yard and a few friends during the lockdown. I had a dream of moving to France for a few months, crewing on a tall ship in the South Pacific, living in a ski town or being a digital nomad. All of this did not include a dog.
Photos of the years before COVID clipped my wings
Photos Wendy Abrams
It turns out I'm not going anywhere, possibly for another year if I don't get COVID. You brave travelers, hats off to you. I'm going to wait to get the vaccine. I hope everyone who is struggling with this realizes I know how lucky I am to have the option of a yard and food and a sense of humor. And now a dog with a global microchip should we abandon ship ensemble.
Enter stage right: a dog, a really tiny dog. Marcel
I named him Marcel after Marcel Marceau the mime because he looks like a clown after levitating on all fours from chair to table in a flash. White faced, slightly French in character, voila. Marcel. It turns out we both needed to be rescued. I walked my neighborhood streets, one of those zombie masked walkers with grown out roots, headphones getting in my 10,000 steps solo long enough. Something was missing, my heart didn’t have an unconditional outlet of joy. After a while that can gut a person if you crave unpredictable bursts of joy which most humans do. Sometimes it takes a dog and a village. Thank you neighbors.
A kind relentless neighbor who kept sending me dog texts all summer wouldn't let up. What about this dog or that one? She brought me one in a cast and a head cone. Didn’t work out made me sad. Dog in cone found good home. She knew it was a matter of time and one day an instagram of my little friend popped on my phone while I as at the market.
Building a wall that I could lean on was essential. Not to block out love and homeless dogs or nice people, just to encourage me to relax and sink into what is known as home.
So now when I am dancing to U2 or Tears For Fears like an 80's club aficionado, I don't block out possible observers of my dancing habits. It's mostly Marcel.
We wonder what will be next. A true dance partner? A better wooden table or a fire pit? We shall see, and we are hopeful.
To dancing like no-one is watching and letting walls keep me safe and inspired and to adopting a dog. Thank you to my neighbor Deb, a vigilante rescuer who didn't give up on my need for a dog even if I tried to resist the temptation. Thank you Hollywood Huskies, the rescue that saved Marcel. I know he's not a Husky, they have all kinds of dogs now and we are good with that.
Comments