letting go

saturday night at the parish. not the local church. a local music venue on 6th street.

there are long couches along either wall. i am a wallflower at a high school dance, facing everyone sitting in a long row on the other side of the dance floor. a few people move in their seats to the thump of the music spinning. the space between us empty.

the instruments, illuminated by red spotlights, look abandoned. oversized round paper lanterns project dim aqua light to the rest of the club. a slow stream of people begins to fill the floor, congregating mostly around the empty stage. i find myself looking to see who arrives next.

more friends arrive.

the lights become dimmer. the crowd on the dance floor lets out a cheer and we see the members of grupo fantasma bound on to the stage. we jump up from our seats to join the mass. the lead singer greets us, shamelessly complimenting, "the best fans are always in austin," and counts off the first song. it is a rock and roll-ified cumbia underscored by conga beats in three. S and i, ever the dancing queens, hit the first note hard with our high heeled shoes and dance.

the lead singer, dark-haired and handsome in his red guayabera, charms us between songs, talking to us as if we were his closest friends. he instructs us to dance the next song, a favorite cumbia. he tells us to "let go."

"let go!" S repeats. to me, "let go of your dissertation, girl!"

"let go of ex-boyfriends," i say to her, and can think of a million other things i need to let go of.

and for the rest of the night we do. moving without thinking. stepping swaying turning spinning in a whirlwind of sound and red and aqua light. cumbias. salsas. rumbas. merengues. all rock-infused. the music powerful and like joy under our skin.

it doesn't matter here that we have dissertations or ex-boyfriends. that we are lonely or stressed. that we become sweaty and tired. that our feet ache. we dance here and are like waves in a sea of people, each with our own glint and light.

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