Immediately some kids start mimicking him, doing the same moves.
“Come on, Claire.” He picks up the speaker and backs up, eyes locked onto mine, and points, beckoning me over with his finger.
I stand up, laughing, covering my face with my hands, and asthe chorus kicks up, fueled by happy memories of my daughter and the pure joy on Miles’s face, I start to sway to the music. Miles dances around me as two little girls point and laugh, their mothers on a nearby bench smiling at the sight of his genuine happiness as he dances around the playground with reckless abandon.
Little by little, I start to loosen up, remembering moves I’d perfected all those years ago in Minnie’s lavender bedroom. Because it was always this song that cheered her. And now she was using it to cheer me—from thousands of miles away.
I begin to throw myself fully into the song, singing the words, dancing along, using my thumb as an air microphone and laughing as Miles and I dance around the whole playground.
At this point, most of the little kids have joined in, forming a crazy jumping, dancing conga line behind us. Even some of the parents are dancing with each other or showing off disco moves. Miles picks me up and twirls me around, eliciting shouts and whoops and hollers from the kids. He jumps up on the mushrooms and starts to make his way around the wooden jungle gym, with dozens of kids in tow.
I follow behind, climbing all the way up to the top of the structure, laughing all the way through the slow fade at the end of the song.
And when it ends, the kids all cheer, and the parents even applaud. My spirit is lighter, with a fresh wave of laughter rolling over me.
We’re standing on top of a wooden rope bridge, swinging slightly as kids run around us, shouting and cheering, and I meet Miles’s happy gaze.
“Feel better?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah, I do.”
“Good,” he says. “Now let’s get to work.”
I’ve never really thought about the lyrics to “Take a Chance on Me.”
They’re incredibly fitting right now.
I was feeling down. The birds had all flown.
Then... Miles.
His playground made a great point.
And he’s right. I’m not about to let a little salt stop me.
I flip over to my list and confidently cross things out. Because I believe I’ve found them.
I want a job or career I love.
I want friends. Real ones.
I want to live in a new city.
I want a dog.
I want to figure out who I am—apart from a wife and a mom.
I want a place where I fit in. I want a place where I belong.
I want a hobby.
I want to do the things that scare me.
Have a meal by myself in public.
Strike up a conversation with a stranger.
Try new foods I’ve never had or can’t pronounce.
