My Husband Won’t Stop Dancing
He just keeps dancing. It is better than being sad.
4 out of 5 times, my husband will leave the bathroom after a shower dancing. He hums his own music and energetically moves his feet. My husband is rather tall with long legs. However, he can still keep a fast pace to any rhythm. It’s comical and gives me a good laugh, but he does it because it’s in his nature to dance and to be happy.
He is always dancing. He won’t stop.
He works nearly 12-hour workdays doing construction, yet he still makes a loud entrance every time he comes home. He’ll stomp his muddy work boots on the floor and give me a big twirl. Then he’ll begin serenading my daughter and I as we get dinner ready. He has a deep voice and can stay on-pitch… most of the time.
Don’t get me started on what happens when he wins a match of Fortnite. Upon jumping out of his chair and taking a selfie in front of the TV screen, he’ll begin dancing for me. Usually, it’s reggaeton style, where he sensually moves his hips as most Latino men can do with expertise.
When speaking of his beloved Colombia, he tells me of streets full of music — salsa in particular. Of course, he also never fails to remind me that the Latin music industry's most prominent artists come from Colombia: Shakira, J-Balvin, Maluma, Juanes, he could go on. When we go to Colombia, he says that we will go dancing every night because everybody else is also doing it. All gather to dance to the best music on earth. From my experience being married to him, I believe everything he says about his country's vibrancy.
His life hasn’t been easy. A single mother raised him and his brother in a small coastal town in Colombia. Despite the trying circumstances he faced, he hardly speaks of it, nor do I see it affect him.
Coming to the United States alone has likewise been hard. He misses his mother and brother dearly. He makes a daily phone call and speaks endlessly of the day when their visas will also be accepted, and they will be reunited and live a better life. He hasn’t seen them in 3 years, and his mother is ill.
But he just keeps dancing. It is better than being sad.
My husband inspires me to be happier. He inspires me to believe that God will always take care of us, no matter what. The hardships we face as a result of his immigrant status are hardly noticeable. He doesn’t let his life revolve around the fact that he is limited to strenuous physical labor jobs, or that we get paid much less than a lot of our couple friends. Navigating the immigration system has been like trying to walk outside during a brutal hurricane, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He’s immune to negativity. When the days are hard, he’ll turn on a few tracks from Willie Colón, take my hand, and dance. When you’re moving your feet to the sound of lively trumpets and the beat of bongo drums, it’s hard to remember life’s woes. I’m serious. Try it sometime. Something about the upbeat rhythms of salsa music is hypnotizing. You have no choice but to move.
I’m grateful for my husband. He shines like the sun on my cloudy days. He reminds me to find joy within myself rather than search for it elsewhere. His diligent optimism grounds me firmly when the long days of being a stay-at-home mom make me feel blue. I know that he will brighten my day with his celebration of life every day when he comes home. Most importantly, he reminds me to slow down and take moments to smile, feel a little silly, and just dance.
