This morning the ocean danced.
An hour before sunrise, waves rushed and leapt and sprayed, leaving a molten crimson cast on the rocky shore. This is the the same spot where my children planted a beach bouquet .
The sun ignited a more tentative, delicate ballet. It seemed to whisper from both wings, limbs of light clasping each other at the horizon as dawn’s bright white clouds began to swirl and glide overhead.
As birds began singing in earnest, one sturdy late winter branch bowed to its more petite neighbor, whose arms were outstretched, as if extending an invitation to tango.
Five years ago today my children and I brought their father home to die.
But this morning the ocean danced.
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Author: Stephanie
In her spare time, Stephanie works full-time, and then some, as an attorney. She has published articles and delivered talks in arcane fields like forensic evidentiary issues, jury instructions, and expert scientific witness preparation. She attended law school near the the banks of the Charles River and loves that dirty water; she will always think of Boston as her home.
You are welcome to take a look at her Facebook author page, or follow @SMartinGlennon on Twitter and @schnitzelpond on Instagram. Bonus points for anyone who understands the Instagram handle.
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Love in the Spaces 
I’m glad the world is still dancing, despite the loss you must still feel. In the midst of suffering, there is this sort of joy that enables us to continue.
janet
And Death is a dance as well. Change and movement… *hugs to you*
Beautiful.
I love the way you write!
Beautiful sunrise and poignant memories