Dancing in the Stars

I think a lot about dancing, and I’m jealous of those who can still dance. My hubby refuses to watch DWTS, but I try to sneak peeks when I can. I imagine myself gliding across the floor or rhythmically keeping pace with the Latin numbers or working up a frenzy with a modern routine. So I’m not dancing with the stars but in my dreams I’m in the stars.

It really doesn’t seem that long ago when I could still dance – I miss it so much. I started young – maybe 3 or 4 – when my mother took me to dance class. She and my father were the smoothest dance couple I ever saw. I suppose that’s why she wanted me to learn. Ballet, tap, jazz – I did it all! Then the pre-teen years hit and Mother insisted I take ballroom dancing classes – I hated it. It was like something from the Victorian era – we had to dress up, wear white gloves, sit perfectly straight in our chairs, and wait until one of the “gentlemen” approached us, requesting a dance. Keep in mind, many of these so-called gentlemen were in our class and the moniker hardly seemed appropriate! That only lasted a year and I was then allowed to learn all the new steps to the latest dance craze. School dances (with or without dates) became the highlight of my teen years – my feet were meant to move! Even as an adult, I never stopped dancing – there were the beef and beer nights with disc jockeys, fund raisers for the kids’ schools, exercise classes, even teaching my own children how to dance!

Then came the day when the music continued, but the feet could no longer keep up. I could stand and hold onto something for balance, but while my body kept beat to the strains, the feet stayed firmly planted. In my mind, I could visualize the movement, but the message never reached the pegs. I tried to teach my little grandson how to dance, and we laugh because he limps when he does his little routine! I also love watching Zumba – the rhythm and the movements remind me of the days when I would have been able to accomplish them. It’s a great exercise, and I know women who have last a ton of weight doing it. But it came along after the feet stopped, and now I can just imagine how great it would feel.

People have asked me what I miss since having MS, and I rarely mention dancing – it always seemed to sound so superficial. Yet, that’s a major loss for me. In the long lens of retrospection, I always see myself moving, and not just walking or running. I see instead a flow, a gyration, a whirligig, and I’m smiling through it all. Yes, I do miss my dancing.

Peace,
Muff