Sundress Reads: Review of Dancing Between the Raindrops

Lisa Braxton’s Dancing Between the Raindrops (Sea Crow Press, 2024) is a masterful and touching memoir in essays, full of grief and healing. Right from the start, Braxton situates readers into her heart, teaching us to care deeply for her mother, a woman who loved to write, though “never saw her words printed in a bound publication placed on the shelf of a bookstore…but she became something much more extraordinary” (Braxton 14). We learn about her father, who ran a clothing store for 40 years and, “at age 83, [has] lost most of his hearing” (Braxton 15). I immediately became invested in Braxton’s family and found myself eager to immerse myself further in her memories.

The idea of home is at the core of this book, including descriptions of physical houses and spaces as well as how people provide comfort and safety. One particularly touching moment is when Braxton decided to play gospel music for her mother, who was near the end of her life. Braxton writes: “Mom began to cry, something I didn’t expect. Then her crying became sobs. I didn’t know what to do. I thought about turning the music off, but decided to let it play, thinking that maybe she needed to express her emotions. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was sobbing because she was aware that she was dying in the same bedroom that she and Dad first occupied in 1961, that she never got the dream house that she wanted.” (28)

Here, a daughter wants so strongly to provide solace for her mother, to love her even if it looks a different way than she originally envisioned. Because so often, the way someone needs to receive love doesn’t exactly align with how one naturally give love. Still, the compassion and bond is there.

The memoir genre is explorative in nature, prompting author (and readers) to ask questions. Braxton admits to what she didn’t know at a young age; in many cases, this involves learning about what it means to African-American in this country. For example, towards the end of the memoir, Braxton writes: “Mom knew what I needed. As a child, I had many questions she couldn’t answer in a way I would understand” (113). In others moments, the learning process involves figuring out how to be a good daughter, citizen, sister, etc., and navigating illness and aging. And so perhaps even more bravely, Braxton also admits to what still doesn’t know as an adult. In a chapter in verse, which also happens to share its title with the book, she says,

These lines evoke grief visually through Braxton’s candidness. They also demonstrate her command of poetry; as a poet myself, I was delighted to see chapters of verse within the memoir.

Braxton continues her masterful instrumentation of image and emotion in the following chapter, “Dad’s Playlist.” Here, the format of a track list engage readers in short but powerful memories. She writes, “I watch you blow dust off the record player needle on the Hi-Fi stereo system and lower the arm onto the album as it spins around” (Braxton 39) and swinging hands with her father in his assisted living home to the beat of Sam Cooke’s “Twistin’ the Night Away” (Braxton 40). These vivid scenes, while short, paint so much understanding about the love and care Braxton had for her parents.

I admire Braxton’s openness on the page, as well as her confidence to play with genre and style. In addition to the playlist and poetry, other forms that make their way into Dancing Between Raindrops include: newscast script, job listing, photographs, resume, evaluation form, and recipe. One of my favorites, a crossword puzzle complete with answer key, brilliantly inserts definitions into a narrative. For example, when Braxton and her sister are trying to convince their aging father to retire and rest, he adamantly pushes back, saying, “‘I have a plan. There’s a space on East Main Street where I can open another store… ‘“’I can have all the merchandise sent over there. I can set up in a matter of days, get some flyers printed’” (83). Just below, Braxton redirects attention to the game: “(12 across: An idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person’s mind)” (83). As a reader, I found this format playful and emotionally charged—the meaning behind every detail is elevated by each clue, rather than interrupted.

I connect to Braxton’s memoir in so many ways—I am a cancer survivor, I have grappled with the slow grief of family members struggling with their health and memory, eventually passing. Despite any differences between Braxton and myself, her compelling and honest storytelling draws me close. When I reflect upon what this memoir means for Braxton herself, I recall words from her mother, emailed to Braxton: “I know, my dear. I’m well aware. I’m thinking about you too. All the time. Love you!” (135). In these words, I hear Braxton’s care, thoughtfulness, understanding, and admiration towards her family, her parents’ legacy, and the memories she’ll always hold dear.

Dancing Between the Raindrops is available at Sea Crow Press

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Livia Meneghin (she/her) is the author of the chapbook Honey in My Hair and the Sundress Publications Reads Editor. She earned a Writers’ Room of Boston Poetry Fellowship, Breakwater Review‘s 2022 Peseroff Prize, and Second Place in The Room Magazine‘s 2023 Poetry Contest. She earned her MFA from Emerson College, where she now teaches writing and literature. She is a cancer survivor.