On being a dancer…

Each week my writing buddy and I get together and choose a writing exercise from one of the many writing books that we have amassed between the two of us. Some weeks we will search for just the perfect exercise only to end up describing her dining room or backyard and maybe incorporate some dialogue. But about a month ago, we had a really great exercise. We were to think about a pleasure that is our very own then write for 20 minutes. I actually wrote about two things but have decided to just include my very own pleasure of dancing.

My very own pleasure is the heart-racing, sweat-inducing dancing that I used to do. I remember the feeling of being in my body, commanding it to pirouette and leap, plie and releve, shuff-le step, shuff-le step. Then, strike the last pose, my lines perfect. I was in control. Able to turn off my mind and escape from the world. This is my very own pleasure to feel my heart thud against my sternum and reverberate through my rib cage. My mind singularly focused on a spot in front of me to mark each revolution of my body, round and round.

My face reddened and sweaty a marked difference from my lily white chest and arms. I smile in the mirror, feel sweat roll down my temples and along my ears, softly panting, waiting for the music to begin again.

Once a dancer, always a dancer. 🙂

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