Today I’m thankful for dance, even if I did come home with a giant hole in the ball of my foot.
I find it hard to express exactly how dance makes me feel and what it means to me. It was something I did growing up. I didn’t start until I was 11, and I was never great at it, but I loved doing it. This is my sixth year in the young adults class at the same studio I attended while growing up. The dynamic has totally changed, but I don’t love doing it any less. In fact, I think dancing as an adult is more enjoyable than a teenager, because instead of it being something I have to do instead of… well, whatever ’90s teenagers did, it’s something I get to do. For 90 minutes, I get to forget about everything outside that studio. I get to challenge myself to learn something new or perfect something old. I get to don shoes with metal on the bottom and make beautiful floor music.
Sure sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes I can’t walk the next day. Sometimes I sprain things. Sometimes I rip giant holes in my feet. None of that is going to stop me.
Getting older isn’t going to stop me either. I understand now what adults had meant when they talked about things getting harder as we age. Some things are harder now, but you know what? It was hard back then too, just a different kind of hard. I notice the differences, but I don’t let that limit me.
This reminds me of the lyrics to a Toby Keith song: I ain’t as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was.
I wish I had some pictures to post here, past and present, but I unfortunately don’t have any handy.