Another Night, Another Dance: Dancing Through Time

The bass hums through the floorboards. The first notes pulse through the speakers, a heartbeat of synth and rhythm. I press play. The living room is already alive, Chloe and Josh are moving, the air electric with laughter. The music demands movement. And we obey.

Chloe was my first best friend, my sister in every way that mattered. Her house was a second home, always filled with music, love, and the endless energy of five siblings. One lived with his dad, so I barely knew him, but Derek, Brian, Marcus, and Josh? They were my brothers too. They were family. And their house? Their house was alive. It was warmth and rhythm, a place where joy had a soundtrack and dancing was second nature.

I don’t know exactly where Another Night came from—maybe it was Brian’s album, maybe it just appeared like magic in a house where music never stopped—but I know what it did. It took hold of us. It took hold of me. That album wasn’t just songs playing in the background; it was fuel, it was movement, it was everything a ten-year-old needed to feel free.

We danced everywhere. In my bedroom, where I’d shut the door, press play, and lose myself completely, spinning, jumping, hammer dancing with the grace of someone who had none. In Chloe’s living room, where she and Josh would choreograph routines, their moves sharp and precise, while I tried—and failed—to keep up. They never made me feel bad about it. I wasn’t great at remembering the steps, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the music, the movement, the way our bodies knew exactly what to do, even when we didn’t.

Then there were the reunions at Normangee Lake. Chloe’s family always welcomed me in, and those gatherings were something out of a dream—long tables piled high with incredible food, music pouring from speakers, Soul Train-style dance lines stretching through the crowd. And always, Beverly was there.

Some memories carry shadows, but not these. These are golden, untouched, safe.

Beverly. Chloe’s mother. A light in every memory. Some people, when you think back on them, seem to glow, and she was one of them. She had the most beautiful smile, a kind heart, a voice made for singing, and dance moves that came straight from the soul. She was warmth. She was rhythm. She was love. She was, in so many ways, a mother to me too. I can still see her, standing in the kitchen, watching us as we danced wildly to this album, laughing at our ridiculous moves (or maybe just mine) while she cooked breakfast. Her presence lingers in every note.

And now? Now, when I listen to Another Night, it’s not just music.

Sometimes, when I put this album on now, my kids catch me moving before I realize I’m doing it. They laugh, they join in. The music keeps pulling us forward, even as it takes me back.

It’s time travel. I hit play, and I’m ten again, in my room with the volume cranked, singing into a hairbrush, losing myself to the beat.

It’s comfort. It’s medicine. It’s soul food.

And no matter where we are, no matter the time and distance, I know Chloe and I have always got each other. And if I put this album on, I know exactly where to find her. The music plays, and I can see us still—feet flying, voices rising, laughter spinning between us like a dance we’ll never forget.

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Searching For Stars

Neon Moon: Spinning Through the Beams

By Lauren Nixon-Matney • June 2, 2025

Brooks & Dunn: Neon Moon

Hello There Elyse

By Lauren Nixon-Matney • June 2, 2025

Hello There Elyse, I just wanted to take a moment to say something I’ve thought a hundred times but never said out loud: thank you. I first found your videos sometime during the post-pandemic haze — that weird stretch of days when everything still felt heavy, uncertain, a little upside down. And there you were. A bright, hilarious, original spark in the middle of it all. It felt like stumbling across a light left on in a room you didn’t realize you needed to find. You stood out immediately — not just because you’re funny (though you are, brilliantly so), but because you’re real. Your energy, your storytelling, the way your whole face and spirit move when you talk — it’s magic. It’s the kind of thing you can’t fake, and it’s rare. You made heavy days feel lighter without pretending the weight wasn’t there. As someone who’s struggled with anxiety on and off my whole life, I can’t tell you how much it meant — and still means — to see someone show up the way you do. Brave. Honest. Still funny. Still kind. Still human. On days when it felt like the dark was winning, you reminded me it wasn’t. Sometimes just by being you. Sometimes just by posting anything at all. And there’s something else you said once — something that rooted itself deep in my heart and stayed: “If I’m too much, go find less.” That spirit — that fierce, funny, beautiful refusal to shrink — lit something up in me. Thank you for showing us that it’s not just okay to take up space — it’s necessary. It’s needed. It’s powerful. I’ve also been inspired by you as a mother. Watching you walk through hard seasons — like your son’s heart surgery — with courage and love has been incredibly moving. You manage to hold hope and humor and honesty all in the same hand, and it’s beautiful. It matters. It shows. And while I’m at it, I have to say: your Office-themed pregnancy announcement? Absolutely fantastic, just perfect. Totally impressive! In a world that sometimes asks for polish over truth, you keep choosing truth. You keep choosing light. You remind the rest of us that it’s okay to be a little messy, a little awkward, a little human — and that there’s still so much joy to be found in all of it. So thank you, Elyse. Thank you for being a light when it was hard. Thank you for being a reminder that even when the world feels heavy, it’s still a great day to be alive. You’re one of the stars people find when they need to remember that. Keep shining. We’re so glad you’re here. With lots of love & light, Lauren

Another Night, Another Dance: Dancing Through Time

Real McCoy: Another Night

Searching For Stars

Neon Moon: Spinning Through the Beams

Hello There Elyse

Eyesore: Echoes from Midian

Knock Three Times: Girlhood, Ghost Stories, and the Movie That Found Me

Dashboard: A Marching Band for the End of the World

Amazing Grace: A Song That Lives in the Soul

Dream Weaver: Where I Began, Woven in Dreamlight

Stars: Lost in the Orbit of Sound

Solid Ground: Dancing Through the Storm

Landslide: Constellations of Change

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