Dance Your Heart Out
I’m a single woman and I love to dance. I don’t have a dance partner, so what’s a girl to do? When I was in my teens I wanted to learn interpretive dance, but was told that being 5’3” was too short. I still wanted to dance.
A couple weeks ago I heard about some line dancing that was going on at a local senior center. But, no matter how many birthdays have gone by I’ve never considered walking through the doors of a senior center. In my mind, that’s a place for really old people.
I rearranged my writing schedule. Thursday morning is when I put together my weekly column. Last week, I wrote on Wednesday, set my alarm on Thursday so there was plenty of time to feed my cat Lucy, have a cup of coffee and take care of the usual odds and ends before leaving the house. It came time to go and I chickened out.
I decided to give it another try. I again wrote my column and Wednesday, set the alarm on Thursday and this time I made it out the door. The senior center is about fifteen minutes away and I was there with five minutes to spare.
There were several ladies waiting to get started; some were older than me and some younger. I fit right in. The instructor had us try out several dances and I was pretty good at some and terrible at the others. I’m going back and with practice the routines will become easier. Soon my feet will barely touch the ground.
I’m blessed to have inherited my mother’s genes. She was active, strong and healthy into her late eighties and alert to the very end. I’m one of the lucky ones, not limited by arthritis COPD or heart disease. I’m a little fluffy (a few extra pounds) but hey, I’m workin’ on it! The upside of my genetic luck is: This girl can dance!