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Chiquitita
Copyright 2014 Christina M. Guerrero
DEDICATION
Yes.
STORY BEHIND THE STORY
The subjunctive.
My college Spanish professor would be proud.
Well ... she would be fairly satisfied. I never could truly impress her.
NOTES ABOUT DRAFT TWO
Nothing yet.
In a different life, we got married.
When I fantasize about that and when I get to the first dance part of the wedding reception, many songs come to mind, each more applicable and wonderful than the last.
Some of the songs I can barely listen to now, because they were on my mind frequently when he was alive. Some of them are so triumphant, and would have been perfect matches to our personalities and histories.
All of them are on a special playlist, and I listen to it when I am prepared to tolerate the sadness, and imagine what could have been.
Recently, while listening to ABBA: Greatest Hits - Gold, I discovered the song that we probably would have gone with: “Chiquitita.”
So many other songs from medieval times to the early 1900s to the 2000s and on, would have been serious, comical, sweet, romantic, or intense.
But “Chiquitita” summarizes so much for both of us. The ABBA song would have been mostly applicable to me, yet also acknowledged the hope and joy of my subjunctive husband.
In a different life we would have planned to have it as the first song.
And then, in secret, we would have learned a little ballroom dance routine -- not too complicated -- yet with flowing footsteps, a few swoops, carefully-timed kisses, and ending with a long, tasteful embrace.
In a different life, after the ceremony attended by those truly loyal to us -- a small group, indeed -- we would have stayed behind to sign the appropriate papers, paid the preacher, and had pictures taken of two very happy people.
We would have then taken a few minutes to enjoy our new status, then gone to the reception area, for good food among good people, and good socializing.
And in this subjunctive life, we would have been able to persuade the four talented individuals formerly known as ABBA, or any combination thereof of them, to perform for a reasonable fee. Okay ... for an outrageous fee ... but you never know.
And when it came time for that first dance, ABBA would have stood up from their respective tables, having so far been attending incognito, and gone to the stage and taken their places.
And when the guitar began playing, we would have gone to the floor. When the attendees recognized the group, they may have been surprised. My subjunctive husband and I would have clapped and honored the performers.
And then we would have started dancing ... slowly at first.
He was an interesting fellow, with hidden talents.
I imagine he would have either hummed or sang along as we danced, as we blushed, and as we enjoyed each others’ company among our tiny group of loved ones.
And then that little rehearsed dance would have started when the song picked up, and we would have enjoyed that part -- perhaps slightly surprising everyone. We were not, and are not, ancient by any means, but it would have been not too athletic or taxing for anyone over the age of approximately fifty-ish, and graceful enough to please the eye without having to be good enough to place in a dancing competition.
The triumphant part of the song would have represented a lot for both of us.
I imagine us smiling, laughing, dancing easily, and truly enjoying this. The attendees would have seen two truly happy people, at a wedding they were looking forward to, moving well in time to the beat and the spirit of the song.
No matter how this story ended, either later or much later or even hopefully many decades later (I once had a faint vision of him living a very long life), the dance would have represented all the hope and joy and happiness of one’s wedding day.
I listen to the song frequently, and imagine us there, in another life, happily dancing, surrounded by that little group of wonderful loyal friends.
Sometimes ... sometimes ... sometimes ... I am really there ... in his arms ... and he is triumphant ... and I am too ... and I can feel the perfect dress flowing around me, swishing, and him close to me: proud yet bashful ... and we are dancing, thinking of that other couple ... the other couple thinking about us ... the couple separated by death: she on Earth and he in Heaven.
We cry a little as we dance, knowing what could have happened in a different life, but we are mostly happy ...
... as we dance that happy, hoppy, hippy, silly, ballroom dance to “Chiquitita.”
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