Last night, we had a dance party in the kitchen.

Full disclosure, I am not much of a dancer. I’m very bad at it, and it usually just makes me feel self-conscious.

But things have been so heavy lately. (And by lately, I mean for the last 1.5 years.)

So last night, while leftovers were reheating on the stove, we put on cheesy pop songs and danced around the kitchen. And then at dinner, we laughed and joked and were together. Really together, not just going through the motions.

We weren’t think of to-do lists or world problems or tomorrow. We were just thinking of each other.

And I remember thinking:

this is joy.