Etta James: At Last

At 8:30 a.m. on New Year's Day, the Boxer and I went to a Waffle House on the beach in Biloxi, Mississippi, to have breakfast. We had danced the new year in the night before at our first new year's eve celebration together. And we were headed that morning to hear a message of hope and inspiration delivered by someone like us who has beaten all the odds and is still standing.

After we ordered our eggs, I went over to the jukebox, as I always do, to play a series of my Old School favorites. Putting in my dollar for six plays, I punched in the numbers and the first one I played -- of course -- was "At Last" by Etta James. As the first few notes rose and moved through the restaurant, I walked back over to the table where I looked down at the Boxer and said softly, "May I have this dance?"

Without a moment's hesitation, he rose, took me in his arms, and we danced in the Waffle House in the broad daylight of New Year's morning, ignoring the cloud of witnesses as if we were the world entire.

When the song ended and we sat down to eat, the restaurant roused itself as if it had been on pause for three minutes. And life went on. For everyone but Etta.

Thank you, my sister. Rest in peace.