“I used to be a dancer. Well, I mean, I used to take dance.”
Do you ever feel like you’ve lived 9 different lives? Like you lived the life as a baby, that you don’t even remember. You were likely, at some point, akin to the spawn of Satan during your terrible twos and threatening threes. Which you also likely have very little recollection of. And then there’s grade school you. Where you recall snippets and pieces. Junior High. Which maybe you’d rather forget. High school. Where it’s like you were playing the role of where ever it is your services were needed. And then there’s everything since.
So by the time people meet you as an adult… by the time you maybe become a parent… you’ve lived all these different yous to get to where you are.
For 11 years, I was a dancer. Well. I mean, I took dance lessons. I performed in recitals. I went to classes every week — at times, as many as 4 or 5. I don’t know that I ever was a dancer in the truest sense of the talent. My middle name is far from Grace. But I danced. Took a lot of dance classes. Spent a fair amount of hours tapping, jazzing, balleting, and a few other thingsings. And I loved it.
For just over a decade, from the time I was three through my Freshman year of high school I took dance. It taught me endless lessons. And gave me memories for a lifetime. And yet, it feels as though it happened in another lifetime. You know what I mean? When those things you once gave so much time to, are no longer a part of any of your days? It’s weird, right?
This one. Ohhhh Fun, Fun, Fun. My sister and I did tap duets several years. And when I look back on my days in dance, that is the time for which I am most thankful. My sister and I were complete opposites. She always knew all the steps. I always brought the drama. But it worked. We wore the most insane outfits. But it was okay. Because we were doing it together. We were having fun, fun, fun. And that’s really all that mattered.