Dance with me

In our everyday lives, there is not enough room for dancing. As a child you’ll break into a dance any chance you get. Who needs to set one foot in front of the other, when you could just as easily twirl, skip, hop, side-step, and whatever else your preferred method of moving forward was when you were younger? Somewhere along the way, we forget all our naturally given instincts, and just walk like there is purpose to every step (which from my own experience, I know there isn’t).

Also, some of my unhappiest memories are from just doing that, putting one step in front of the other while some of my happiest memories are from doing everything but putting one foot in front of the other… When A and I started dating, a long long long time ago, we made a trip out to Atlantic City in July (I know, I know – not the fanciest of places). I don’t remember much from our trip. I know we must have stayed over night, but I do not recall the hotel we stayed at, or what we ate, but I remember one moment very vividly and clearly.

A and I were hot from the blistering sun and decided to walk inside the Playground at Caesars Mall to watch the Inside water fountain show. As we were approaching the fountain, My Girl which made me squeal. I took A’s hand and urged him to dance with me, which he REALLY didn’t appreciate (he was hot and sticky, and just uncomfortable from being in Atlantic City – naturally). But we were in the beginning stages of our relationship and A was still trying to figure out how I operated, so he gave in and danced a few steps with me, in the middle of the mall, twirling me around, doing a couple steps here and there. That’s when it must have occurred to him that it doesn’t take much to make me happy, and if it’s just a few steps here and there, then why not do just that.

It’s not often, it’s not every time, it’s not always in a mall, it’s definitely not always prompted by me, but we dance ever so often to the beat of our own drums. And those memories, are my happiest, because it allows us for a brief moment to escape everything, forget everything that is around us, forget where we were going and why, and just listen to whatever music is playing. Sometimes we would be in the middle of our living room, folding laundry, when A would stretch his hand out and pull me close to him, just so we could dance a few steps together.

It’s not much, really, and definitely doesn’t require much effort, but it requires the willingness to break free from whatever you’re doing at the moment and just be present, enjoy the contrast to whatever it is you just did, and love yourself a bit more. These days, A and I don’t get to dance much (you know, living in two different countries and what not) but the memories make my heart skip a beat every time, and I find myself dancing, shuffling, moving goofily – in anticipation of the next time when I get to dance again with A.

Me dancing at 5 am in the morning on a rooftop in Italy. A few days before our wedding.
Me dancing at 5 am in the morning on a rooftop in Italy. A few days before our wedding.


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