I love dancing. The most fun I can remember was bouncing in sinc to some sound in a wild African-like frenzy. No care in the world. My soul sang. I was free. I was in a moment. When nothing around me mattered. I was one.
As I drove to work this morning and found myself singing out loud to some song on the radio I thought about dancing. I want to go dancing on my birthday. Today is my birthday.
Where do I go dancing? I remember a couple girlfriends and I used to have dinner and make the kitchen the dance floor. That was fun. So much energy. Positive energy.
However, the older you get the more time seems to suck you in. And for some reason, there becomes less of it for yourself.
I had made a commitment to attend to a family matter. Which I did. It ended poorly. Followed by a date with a laundromat.
Shortly before 10 p.m. I lit a candle on a store-bought cheesecake and sang myself Happy Birthday. I reckon I'll just have to do some dancing in my sleep. There's always next year...
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