Oh how I miss the days of dancing!
There's not a day goes by that I don't think of dance, whether it's music on the radio making me shimmy in my seat belt, or a long aisle in the grocery store just waiting for my chassé grand jeté to leap through. But you know, once a dancer, always a dancer, and one simply doesn't drop dance. Dance is expression without words, it comes from the soul and will always be there inside of me. Plus, my large floor length mirrors in my room make dancing quite enjoyable, especially when belting out to some 1D.
I'm reminded more and more every day of the art of dance as I see my sister mature and grow into the beautiful performer she is. Did you know that back in August when we went to France, that it was because of her and her dancing shoes? I'm quite proud to call her my sister and secretly cannot wait to see her onstage once more.
So although I am not Elton John's so called "tiny dancer" (more like a sequoia tree dancer), I am still my own dancer. Whether or not I look like a gazelle on espresso beans doesn't matter- it's how the music makes me move. And groove. And jive. And shake. And shimmy. And au revoir!