Wishing

There is a tango sung by the marvelous Peruvian singer, Susana Baca, called De Los Amores:

De los amores no entiendo
y del dolor fui el primero
pescador, no soy bella
como duele el esmero
como duele.

I don’t understand about love
And of pain I was the first fisherman.
I’m not pretty
How love hurts
Oh, how it hurts.

There is, of course, some lying here. Like any artist immersed in her work, Susana Baca is beautiful (which may, indeed, be the opposite of pretty). But when you listen to her, looks are the last thing on your mind. There is something so mournful, so true about the lacerating reality of love in her lyrics.

When I first heard the song (two years ago via the Rubberbanddance troupe), I immediately picked it up and gave it to a friend who was getting married. “This,” I said, “is the most beautiful dance you could possibly choose.”

But really – who am I fooling? – it was my dance with Dennis. At least, it was the dance in my head. We both love to dance, but never danced together particularly well.

Stupid irony.

It is good that my marriage is over. We are not very good married to each other. But we loved each other, love each other, very well indeed. If ever we have one last dance, this will be it. At least, if I have anything to say about it.

Te amoro, Daddy-o.

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