He swept across the floor, waltzing with the old mop. Molly giggled when he dipped it and stroked the strands like he’d seen in the movies, but smothered it when he glanced at her. “What are you doing, Benny?” she said in Mom-voice.
“Dancing, Mommy. Do you want to dance with me?”
She sighed and shook her head. “Mommy has dishes to do, bills to pay, and laundry to put away so you have clothes for school.” She raised her eyebrow. “Plus I’ll have to give you another bath after playing with that dirty mop.”
He looked disappointed, but shrugged. “Okay,” he said before twirling once more with his imaginary ingenue.
Molly grabbed the mop and cocked it back, one swing away from destroying the unbidden memory. She stopped and clutched it to her chest. Tears streaming, she sank to the floor and cried out, “It should have been me dancing with him!”
“Why didn’t I dance with him when I had the chance?”
May you dance long and lovingly.