Ive always liked dancing. My favorite mornings are spent swaying infront of the mirror while chiming in to melodies with madeup lyrics. My shower is a witness to just how terrible my moves can get and me continuing mindlessly as though Im not running late for class. However, doing it infront of others has always horrified me. Except, maybe, when I was seven. I swear, no one could stop me. I even choreographed my performance with my cousins for my 7th birthday. And those school dances? Your girl was always infront. I wish I could dance like that again. Careless, no, carefree a describes the feeling better.
On Saturday, I was too early for my class meeting so I went to my organization room. After journaling to Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah, I reached for the office computer and began dancing along to my colleague's music, spinning on the office chair like a kid. Any body could come in at anytime, yet I shut my eyes and moved the way I would if I was in the comforts of my dimly lit room. Swaying softly, each turn consequent to every fall or lift of a note.
I feel like June is going to make me dance. No, I know it. It will consist of lighthearted minutes and roadtrips spent not screaming along to music, but rather with my hands out waving with the air. My hair blown away from my face by the summer breeze, skin kissed by the warm incandescent sun. It will be love, the unpretentious kind. The smooth sailing.
Another month, a hundred more chances to fall.
Stay in love, little missy.
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