Nearly 20 years ago I was flirted with by Mr. October.
Not this one. In the process of writing this post I learned that there really was a major Mr. October, more famous than my suitor from 1993. My Mr. October was a fire fighter that I met during my sister’s bachelorette party.
A bunch of wild women went out dancing to mark my beautiful sister’s pending nuptials. I was a self-conscious, overly blessed up top (curvy) 25-year-old single gal who loved to dance and was ready to let loose. For the record, I had not yet discovered yoga but was quite familiar with The Dance. Apparently, Mr. October appreciated my talents and mentioned to a member of the estrogen tribe that I should be proud of my body. WHAT?!?!? I had spent 15 of my 25 years wishing I were my sweet petite smart older sister instead of the bodacious bride wanna be that I was.
Who is this Mr. October? A handsome fire fighter from a nearby county who was chosen to represent the 10th month in a fundraiser for the squad. And he asked me out. Unbelievable. And so the adventure began. October picked me up in his Porsche and took me on a tour of the city. I was enamored by his title and his bedroom eyes and his civic duty to protect a portion of the city from the danger of flames. And that is about as hot as it got. We went out to dinner once and I visited his living quarters but as soon as October flipped to November so did my interest in this nice fire fighter whose attraction was much more than his heavy hose (Sorry, I couldn’t resist that little joke. And for the record, I never saw any hose associated with Mr. October.) But I have a good story. I went out with a calendar model.
AND YESTERDAY I SAW HIM. Almost 20 years later. His name is memorable and I saw it engraved on a name tag attached to a rescue squad worker at a softball game. – I won’t disclose it to protect his privacy. He hasn’t changed much – still tall and fit and handsome and he was wearing an officer’s uniform like he commands much more than one month. He probably has a whole squad. Good for you Mr. October. I hope you have found great happiness.
I also hope you dance, like Lee Anne Womack and Rumi suggests and like I did so long ago and still do occasionally. I do love to dance.
Dance, when you’re broken open.
Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, when you’re perfectly free.
— Jelaluddin Rumi (13th century)
I hope you never lose your sense of wonder You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger May you never take one single breath for granted God forbid love ever leave you empty handed I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance. — Lee Anne Womack
I pray you dance. In October and May and every other month. Nice to see you, Mr. October – even if you didn’t see me.
Seen any flames lately?