I loved dancing. Adored it. Whenever I heard music with a decent beat, I would stop and have a little boogie.
It didn’t matter where I was. I could be in a car park or in a supermarket. As soon as the music (real or imagined) came on, I would start grooving.
Our primary school had a production of the ugly duckling when I was in kindergarten. I still remember it. I was part of the ducklings that told the swan to “quack, quack, get out of town.”
We would practise until our legs ached. I didn’t care. I loved the discipline. The drama. The music. The fabulous costumes.
And it was also thrilling to be under the lights and to hear that applause on the night of the performance.
I would have loved to spend my life twirling and grooving.
Sadly, my legs were not as long as others. And I didn’t grow into the body for it.
Sometime during grade 6 or so, I gave up on my dream of becoming a ballerina. It was a sad acceptance of fact that no matter how much I loved ballet, I was never going to create the long lines needed for that kind of beauty.
These days, I rarely dance. But I love it when I do!
The last time I cranked up the music and danced was during Christmas last year.
After avoiding Mariah Carey for the entire day, we gave in and turned up “All I want for Christmas”. My son and I danced around our small living room, punching the air and twirling our joy.
For Bloganuary – Day 22. What was your dream job as a child?