ghosts and two steppin'
I don't believe in ghosts. Never have. I like to read about other's encounters with spirits but I don't take them seriously. It's like fiction to me. I don't believe in them because I've never seen one. Even when I ask, beg, to see one, it doesn't happen.
So when I recently stayed in a suite on the grounds of an ancient fort where hundreds of Texans were massacred by Mexicans in 1836, I wasn't scared of seeing a ghost. I actually welcomed the possibility. I mean, if there ever were an opportunity to run into a ghost, wouldn't a mission that has seen so much death and war be the perfect place? The guestbook in the suite of Presidio La Bahia even told of guest encounters with spirits and unusual sounds and/or occurrences. David, Lori, and I left for dinner and music and anxiously returned late that night to witness the ghosts of La Bahia. Nothing happened. Of course, we all slept like rocks so if something did happen, we never heard or saw it. But there were moments when I woke to silence. That's it.
Now on the dance floor of Schroeder Hall, I did see a ghost from my past. Kevin Noack. I didn't really see him, but an overwhelming nostalgia came over me as I watched all the small town folk two step around the wood dance floor. I thought of how I used to love to country dance when I was in high school. There was something so free and magical about it. But it had to be with the right person. Some guys cannot dance and it is tortuous to have to endure an entire song with these two-steppin challenged individuals. No one ever formally taught me how to two step. I just picked it up rather quickly by dancing a lot on the weekends.
Kevin Noack could dance. He was also easy on the eyes. Medium height, lean, olive toned skin, chestnut brown hair, brown eyes, black cowboy hat, tight dark Wranglers, soft spoken. I remember watching him dance with his beautiful girlfriend from Moulton. I don't recall her name but her hair was lovely. It was long, straight, and golden blonde. She was very slim and petite, wore tight Rocky Mountain jeans and boots. He would twirl her around the dance floor and her hair swished round and round. I envied her so much. One night she wasn't there. I didn't think he even knew I existed but there he stood asking me to dance! I knew how, but that doesn't mean we would've danced well together. There's a certain chemistry in dancing. Two people can know all the right moves and steps but not dance well together. Kevin and I did. From that moment, I loved dancing with him. And that's all it was. Dancing. We never dated although I don't know why because I would've dated him in a heartbeat. No one compares to the way he danced with me. I saw us that night in Schroeder Hall spinning around the dance floor, stopping to twirl me around his hand and come back together perfectly for more steps forward and back, in sync with each other. Never missing a step.
So when I recently stayed in a suite on the grounds of an ancient fort where hundreds of Texans were massacred by Mexicans in 1836, I wasn't scared of seeing a ghost. I actually welcomed the possibility. I mean, if there ever were an opportunity to run into a ghost, wouldn't a mission that has seen so much death and war be the perfect place? The guestbook in the suite of Presidio La Bahia even told of guest encounters with spirits and unusual sounds and/or occurrences. David, Lori, and I left for dinner and music and anxiously returned late that night to witness the ghosts of La Bahia. Nothing happened. Of course, we all slept like rocks so if something did happen, we never heard or saw it. But there were moments when I woke to silence. That's it.
Now on the dance floor of Schroeder Hall, I did see a ghost from my past. Kevin Noack. I didn't really see him, but an overwhelming nostalgia came over me as I watched all the small town folk two step around the wood dance floor. I thought of how I used to love to country dance when I was in high school. There was something so free and magical about it. But it had to be with the right person. Some guys cannot dance and it is tortuous to have to endure an entire song with these two-steppin challenged individuals. No one ever formally taught me how to two step. I just picked it up rather quickly by dancing a lot on the weekends.
Kevin Noack could dance. He was also easy on the eyes. Medium height, lean, olive toned skin, chestnut brown hair, brown eyes, black cowboy hat, tight dark Wranglers, soft spoken. I remember watching him dance with his beautiful girlfriend from Moulton. I don't recall her name but her hair was lovely. It was long, straight, and golden blonde. She was very slim and petite, wore tight Rocky Mountain jeans and boots. He would twirl her around the dance floor and her hair swished round and round. I envied her so much. One night she wasn't there. I didn't think he even knew I existed but there he stood asking me to dance! I knew how, but that doesn't mean we would've danced well together. There's a certain chemistry in dancing. Two people can know all the right moves and steps but not dance well together. Kevin and I did. From that moment, I loved dancing with him. And that's all it was. Dancing. We never dated although I don't know why because I would've dated him in a heartbeat. No one compares to the way he danced with me. I saw us that night in Schroeder Hall spinning around the dance floor, stopping to twirl me around his hand and come back together perfectly for more steps forward and back, in sync with each other. Never missing a step.
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