Mildred, gone dancing.

Mildred at Pine Tree Cottage with my beloveds.

I have mentioned our friend, mentor, inspiration, wonder Mildred many times in this blog. 

Sheila and I talked of driving to Helen to see Mildred again this fall, as we did for her 100th birthday last October. But that wasn't to be. Teressa called us this morning to let us know that Mildred died yesterday. Teressa said Mildred was having a pretty good day until thirty minutes before her death. She was only a few weeks from her 101st birthday still living there on the Greear place in Pine Tree Cottage that she and Phillip built after they retired and moved back to Helen from Rome

I treasure our copy of Mildred's poetry collection: Moving Gone Dancing, that she published in 2007. I'll post more about Mildred later, but for now here's the poem that is the "Gone Dancing" part of the title; I don't think Mildred would mind my quoting it.

Gone Dancing

Hey, 

watch out

when I dance.

When I dance

from the inside

my dance will begin

with an earth-on-axis whirling

everything centered

spinning like mad.

At first I may look like a kite

before my arms become blurred

and disappear out there

as I dance right through fingers

right through tight skin everywhere.

Up, up on toes, I will be taller

than I have ever been;

everything gone north and south.

Let me tell you,

it will be good

reaching that high

after touching so low.

You may look out and say

there's a whirlwind out yonder!

When already it was likely me

blowing your hat off

as I danced right by you.

Right by you!

and that's no whirlwind out yonder

kiddos, that's me,

your mama

gone dancing.

- Mildred White Greear

My life is poorer for her absence, but so much richer for the last half century as her friend.

When a breeze kicks up and I reach up to secure my hat, I'll think of Mildred, gone dancing.