The dancing life
I received an email a few days ago from a friend who said she wants nothing more than to come visit me but only if I turn up the music, open the car doors and dance in the streets. Decades ago, I found out a classmate referred to me as “that tappy footed” girl. A colleague from back when sent me a note that she misses me dancing on tables. Night before last, we rolled to a stop sign and jumped out of the car and sang Valerie while we danced in the streets.
I have a basic need to dance that is deeply rooted in me. I come from a family of dancers. Maybe it’s our Sephardic roots. Don’t know. But I do know dancing is the nearest I’ve come to nirvana and without it my life would be too, well, still.