Relief

Travis woke up hating everything (it wasn't clear exactly why, but the feeling was not unfamiliar). Lurching from the bed, groaning to the bathroom, and shuffling down the hall, Travis wondered whether this was a "pandemic thing" or if it had, unbeknownst to him, started much, much earlier. Crossing the corner of the living room on his way to the kitchen, he looked up to see Becca gyrating madly in front of the window. "Honey, what are you doing?" he asked, watching her raise her arms and wave them wildly. "It's windy today, Dad," she called back to him, hopping up and down, then stepping side-to-side. "I'm dancing with the trees. TREE DANCE!" She yelled the last bit, taking a wide-legged stance and shifting her weight while making sweeping motions. "What in the world?" Pat said (at Travis' elbow), watching their daughter with amusement and concern. "Tree dance," he responded softly. "Maximum grooves required." He didn't know what possessed him, really, but he moved out onto the carpet to be closer to the action; Becca giggled and cheered him on as he went full disco madman facing the oak in the front yard. "Wow," he heard Pat say, "Just ... wow" as they rocked it out. Travis gave Becca a twirl and dip, grinning from ear to ear. "We got this," his brain said, relieved to have the chance to clear some cobwebs and leave its suck quagmire at last.