The music blared in my dead hair cells, no sounds were processed to my cochlea in my ears. My chest vibrated to the beat of the deafening music. I watched, in awe and curiosity (my arms crossed over my chest to preserve heat), watching the women, the survivors dance, swaying gently to the music in the dim darkness.
Two of them danced together, holding each other’s hands and moving in sync, one held and hugged the other person close and danced together. A pair would dance in front of each other, mouthing the lyrics and making faces. I watched the survivors, the married women dance: each had a story. They survived and fought. Each one survived the hardship of their lives and their marriages. One was divorced with children to care for, one became the First Wife, one had children who had health issues, and one, had a family who worked the woman to the bone.
They had to keep surviving.
They didn't just quit and walked out on their husbands.
No, they stayed and survived. They stayed for their children.
They stayed and survived each blow to their body, because that was what they were raised with and that was the sacrifices that each of them were willing to make.
Awe, was all I could think of and feel, as I forced the smile on my face. They all survived their hardship. They would never feel the real happiness of just loving the guy their whole lives- they probably did, but, nothing lasted.
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