I Could've Danced All Night!

We went dancing.  Yes, we had a REAL date, not just dancing at someone else's wedding.  Yes, I feel like twenty-one again.

Hubby's cousin Matt has a band, the Time Trackers.  They were playing at a nearby club, and Matt invited us to come and listen to the band play.  Will there be dancing?  Hubby asked. Of course, said Matt.  And so I was invited on a REAL date.  Understand, please, that we do go out.  We go to dinner as often as the budget will allow, or a very occasional movie.  Dancing has been almost unheard of.  No, we are not Amish.

I did, however, wear black head to toe, with a touch of ruby at my throat.  Sexy, you say?  Well, at almost sixty and at an unmentionable number of pounds, black is a necessity.  It is slimming, for one thing (what a crock!). Besides, if one should spill sloppy Joe or a drink down one's cleavage, it doesn't leave an embarrassing tell-all stain on the shirt.  Add high heels and I was set to go.

We arrived before Matt, who was going to sign us in.  The door nazi graciously (I use the term loosely) allowed us to be seated, sans gin & tonic, at the bar to await him.  Ah, the rules in a private club.

When the music began, my feet began to twitch.  I knew every word to almost every song.  Tugging at Hubby's arm, we headed for the dance floor.  Swaying to the Righteous Brothers, Elvis and so many more.  Jiving and jumping to Bob Seger and Eric Clapton.  He gave up, except for the slow ones.  I did not.  I have learned to accept sweat from my months at the Y.  When Matt's wife,  Eileen, requested a polka, I was surprised but not intimidated.  Note to self: NEVER AGAIN DANCE TO A POLKA IN HIGH HEELS.  I did not trip, I did not fall.  I was, however, uncoordinated.  We had fun.

He escorted me to the floor for every slow dance after that first one.  Neither of us are great dancers.  I would not expect to be able to follow another man's moves on the floor.  But after forty-plus years together, we mesh.  The music was the messenger, the closeness its own reward.   I was sorry to see midnight come. 

There were others like me on the floor--most of them, in fact.  Middle-aged or older,  a few (or more than a few) extra pounds.  No specific moves, except for the line dancing which I won't do because I feel silly when I turn the wrong way.  I am a free spirit.  I felt comfortable, relaxed.  I needed no salesman's face.  This music, which had always been part of me, surrounded us for four hours.  It filled me with happiness, energy and youth.  Once again,  I am blessed.

I wrote an article on reconnecting awhile ago.  I was so concerned with reconnecting with people and places from my past that I had neglected to reconnect with one from my past who is also my present and my future.  It will take some effort, maybe some more Righteous Brothers to sway us;  maybe overlooking the things that bug me will make it all new again. 

Whatever it takes.