As I flip through newly developed rolls of film,

Old memories flood back in a mirage throughout my head.

I am reminded of impromptu dance lessons in dark living room parties

With loud music playing

and bright eyes wandering.

We’d search the room in a simple nod of the head and blink of the eye,

Examining where we’d move next,

And who we’d talk to next.

We were somehow both discreet,

Yet vulnerable,

All at once.

There was always wine

Lots and lots of cheap wine.

The kind of wine that leaves you regretful the following morning,

Praying for some type of mercy.

Something to cure your pain,

A pain only sleep, water, and a bowl of ramen noodles can fix.

We wore big, beautiful earrings,

With stars and hoops dangling,

And let our hair flow as it would fall beside our shoulders.

We’d dance and sing along poorly.

We sat on rooftops,

Laughing and talking,

Posing for photographs.

Thumb pressed up against the film advance,

I’d watch as the flash went off,

Exposing ourselves.

It was nights like these where we felt most comfortable in the dark.

But wherever we were,

Wherever the night took us,

We were always dancing.

Moving our arms,

Shoulders,

Hips.

We could feel the music.

A night out meant a night with misspoken song lyrics,

Misunderstood whispers,

And misplaced lipsticks.

We were always growing.

I'd like to think our presence attracted others,

Bringing in new friends,

With new dangling earrings,

And new memories.

Maybe we seemed messy.

We were okay with that.

We felt beautiful

And we were happy.

To us,

That was all that mattered.