She needed him. She wanted him. She was reaching for him, finally, again. He had been waiting for her to come back to him for so long. Sure her body was there, but the spirit that she used to have, the one he fell in love with had entered that casket with her father and from that point on every time something in her life broke away, a part of Ella did as well. But today, she realized that Eleanor was strong and had the right to be whole. But she didn't want to say all those words, and with Harold she didn't need too right now. All she wanted was to touch him and let him hold her and to move with him close to her and not care what anybody thought.
She walked to him, like he had something she needed and he did; Love, and the fact that he got her. She walked toward him like a model taking the runway, her limp was obvious but her focus was undeniable. She forgot about the cast on her leg and so did he, all she saw was Harold Davis.
And when they finally touched all she wanted was rock and sway in his presence, dance with him. And they danced in the moonlight. They moved together to their own rhythm, the guitarist tried to catch their beat, but it didn't matter. They had all the music they needed. Eleanor James Davis was alive again. The way it was beating in her chest was enough music for the both of them.
(c) Jamillah Warner, www.gospelnerve.com, I got the nerve to say . . .
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