🌿 The Unbreakable Thread, Stories stitched with strength and surrender.

Waltz Time: Entry 21 - After the Serenade  “Some moments don’t ask to be claimed.  They ask to be noticed.” A serenade, tacos, wine, laughter.  That was how the night unfolded, slowly, without effort.  When it was time to leave, there was a pause at the door. Not awkward, just aware. He leaned in and kissed me goodnight, and it was electric, the kind of kiss that travels faster than thought, lighting something up before you can decide whether you are ready for it. It didn’t go further.  It could have. We had been more intimate in the past. But that night, I hesitated, still finding my footing, and maybe he sensed it. Perhaps he understood that this moment needed space more than momentum. What stayed with me was not what we didn’t do, but what we did. The restraint. The respect. The way the kiss held meaning without needing to prove anything. Outside, the night air met me, and I walked toward the subway.   The platform was nearly empty. Underground, the...

  Waltz Time – Entry 20: The Serenade and the Tacos Some moments feel like crossing a threshold, not just into a place, but into the possibility of someone. I remember standing outside your building that night, looking up at the rows of glowing windows stacked against the Upper West Side sky. A prewar building, steady and elegant, with iron railings and stonework that seemed to hold a thousand stories. Apartment 3A. Even the number felt like it belonged in a script. I pressed the buzzer, your buzzer, and waited. A crackle, then your voice, warm and bright: “Hey there! Come on up. Elevators to the left.” Fancy, I thought.   A secure building, a buzzer, an elevator, so different from my little walk-up with the sticky lock and thin walls. I wasn’t jealous. Just aware. Maybe a tiny bit intimidated. But mostly… flattered. Invited. My palms were sweating as I rode the elevator up. Truthfully, I hardly knew you. A few conversations, and intimate evening, your beautiful reac...

  Waltz Time – Entry 19: Why Wasn’t I Surprised! “Some reactions stay with you — not for what was said, but for what wasn’t.” I called you next.   My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears, still riding the wave of disbelief. The message on my answering machine had just changed everything, and all I wanted was to hear your voice, to tell you the news. When you picked up, your tone was warm, calm, and steady — not surprised, but sincerely happy. “That’s incredible, Bruno,” you said, your voice breaking into that deep, genuine laugh I loved. “A Chorus Line? You did it.” There wasn’t a hint of hesitation, not even the flicker of ego or envy that I had learned to expect from men in my past. No subtle competition, no need to balance my joy with their insecurity. Just pride, pure and unfiltered. You hadn’t auditioned because you were working another gig, a steady one that kept you dancing, but you were truly glad it had happened for me. That kind of react...

Waltz Time – Entry 18: Blinking Light, Beating Heart “In the city that never sleeps, even the smallest light can hold a dream.” Back in my first New York apartment, a red light flickered. On the other side of it waited my dream and the sound of a voice I’ll never forget. The light on my answering machine was blinking when I walked into my apartment, that tiny red pulse, steady and insistent, like a heartbeat waiting for acknowledgment. I dropped my dance bag by the door, the strap leaving a faint sweat mark on my shoulder, and stood there, staring at the machine as if it could sense me. The city hummed faintly outside,  sirens, taxis, some couple arguing below my window — but inside it was quiet, almost sacred. For a moment, I thought it was you. I always thought it was you. That hopeful part of me, the part that hadn’t learned yet how to stop expecting, wanted it to be your voice on the other end. I pressed play. “Hello Ms. Bruno, I am calling on behalf of Ed Blum Cas...

  Waltz Time — Entry 17: The Morning After (continued) “The hardest goodbyes are the ones that pretend to be casual.” I sat there for a while after he walked away, stirring my coffee though it had long gone cold.  The others were buzzing with stories from the night before,  someone had snuck into the pool after hours, someone else had lost a shoe on the dance floor. Everyone looked tired but happy. I smiled when I was supposed to, nodded when I had to, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. When I finally stood to leave, I caught sight of you outside, near the shuttle that would take us to the airport. He was talking with the stage manager, lifting his bag into the back compartment. The morning air was crisp, that familiar end-of-trip melancholy settling over the group, laughter mixed with yawns and the scraping of suitcases across pavement. As I approached, he turned just slightly, enough to see me but not enough to draw attention. For a moment, neither of us s...

Waltz Time - Entry 16:  A Glance Becomes More “Sometimes paradise is just the place where you finally let your guard down.” As I approached the door, he turned toward me and opened it, no words needed. The air between us felt charged, as if the universe had been quietly steering us to this moment. When he took my hand and drew me inside, everything else disappeared. He brushed his lips against my neck, his touch both gentle and certain, tracing the outline of a connection we had both tried to resist. My heart pounded in rhythm with his breath as his hands found their way to my waist, pulling me closer until I could feel his heartbeat against mine. Time seemed to slow, as though the world outside the door had faded to a quiet hum. His eyes met mine, steady, searching, and I knew there was no turning back. The room held only one light, soft and golden, casting shadows that seemed to move with us. He reached for the first button of my blouse, his fingers trembling just slightly, as t...