Wednesday, October 19, 2011
I went to the dance studio after a day of crazy pressures. I went with my hair weather fizzy, my pants gutter splashed, my toe nails unpainted, my T-shirt too short (thank you, aggressive dryer cycle). I just went, and I was me, and you are getting the picture.
I have danced for four years now, something like that. I have worked hard, and I have yearned, but every lesson is a reminder of how much I do not know, how great is the list of things I cannot perfectly do.
Today, in the middle of a lesson, sweaty by now with the humidity of the place, listening to the music, dancing rumba, Jan said, "Beth. You have become a good dancer."
All right. That's it. It happened. I put it here. It may not happen again for a very long time.