earth, wind and fire
"Do you mind if I turn some music on?"
I nod my head. Of course. His little hand reaches up from the passenger seat to adjust the tuning knob. He stops on a funky beat. It is black outside and the street lights have halos. I see his shadow next to me, his bulky hand-me-down jacket spilling out around the seatbelt straddling his 9 year-old frame.
"This song is good, " he says and starts to snap his fingers in rhythm. It is one of those songs from the TimeLife 70's Library infomercial. He's never heard it before in his life, but he likes the beat.
"Merry-Death," cries a little voice from the backseat, "David--he turn the radio on."
"Yes, Nuru. David turned on the radio, " I repeat. I glance in the rearview mirror to catch the toothy smile. "Is that okay?"
"Yes, Merry-Death." Nuru is four years old now. She talks a lot and makes profound statements like "balloons are for babies, not for brothers" in the middle of Dollar Tree. Her head is shaved bald, just as it would be were she still a little girl in Burundi.
We are driving home from church. David and Nuru have left Mrs. Kathy's refuge of paint and blocks and Bible stories in KidsPlace. Tonight was Nuru's first visit, David's second.
"I love that class," sighs David, "I'm serious. I love it more than school."
"Why do you love it?" I ask.
"Because, we get to have fun. We play and we make things and we hear about Jesus. And, Mrs. Kathy is so nice," David states matter-of-factly.
"So would you like to go back?" I inquire, fully knowing his response.
"LOVE too," he sing-songs.
"Nuru, do you want to go back to my church?" I call to pink and brown car-seat in the back.
"YES! We sing songs!" She shouts.
Suddenly, September starts to play on the radio. I love Earth, Wind and Fire with a sincere zeal. I can't put my finger on when it began or how long it's been, but few bands make me want to groove and not just dance.
"I love this song!" I shout and reach to turn up the volume.
Do you remember the 21st night of September?
Love was changing the mind of pretenders
while chasing the clouds away
I am singing along, loud and off key.
"How do you know this song?" asks David. "I like it so I know it," I say.
I start dancing in the driver's seat, waving my hands and rocking my shoulders. David starts snapping his fingers and lifting his arms.
"Air guitar!" I command. David rocks out with a blue steele pout.
"We need trumpets!" I shriek over the music blaring. He raises his hands parallel to mouth and plays an invisible instrument, complete with sound effects.
Hey hey hey,
Ba de ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Ba de ya - never was a cloudy day
Ba de ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Ba de ya - never was a cloudy day
We arrive at their street.
"We'll just have to go the long way home so we can finish dancing," I shout to David and pass it by. He nods back in agreement. Yes, dancing is more important.
"Merry-DEATH. MERRY-Death. This is not correct. You are not correct. My mama she is that way. Our house it is not here. Our house it is not on this street. Merry-Death!" Nuru panics from the back, as if the music has hypnotized me and made me forget how to find my second home.
"I know Nuru. We are just going to finish dancing and then go home. I promise we are going home soon," I calm her but still see her body arched towards the edge of her seat.
Ba duda, ba duda, ba duda, badu
David breaks out more instruments in the brass section. We turn the music up a little more. I shout the lyrics; he raises the roof with his hands in time with the ba duda's.
"Nuru, are you dancing?" David shouts back. His tone is stern, as if to say, "This is for you, too."
"Yes. I am dancing," She answers exasperatedly. I see little feet flopping from the carseat, up and down with the ba duda's. We crescendo towards the end, our voices more loud and harsh. David is bobbing his head and I am pressing this moment into my memory banks.
We make the block. I ease into the driveway. Our laughter is clear and unleashed. The song fades ba de-ya de-ya de-ya...
I turn off the ignition and smile to myself. This is the life.
May you celebrate and linger in the groove. May you take the long way home because the drive is sweet. May you see Jesus, not simply in the brick and mortar sanctuary, but in Earth, Wind and Fire.
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