Out dancing

We were out last night; we were dancing.  With our friends (you see how beautiful they are).  With our one arm (my husband) and our stitched-up gums (that would be me).  It had been months since I'd seen many of these friends, and they all had stories to tell—a mother's tale about a baby's adventures with make-up, an inventor's tale about a phantom ponytail, a little girl's story about illness and wellness.  I go to dance, of course I do.  But mostly I go to be with those who are growing in dance the way I hope to grow in dance, and who laugh with me throughout the adventure.