Friday, November 27, 2009

I Hope You Dance

As a child I spent my days dancing. I loved to feel the music, the emotion it evoked and to let my body mindlessly drift and float. The playroom became my dance studio.

Last week I started playing Christmas music. The girls love hearing the music feeding that holiday excitement already building. "Do you girls dance at home." Both looked at me as if I'd spoken in a foreign language. "Don't you ever just put on your music and dance?" Again, blank looks. "We're going to dance today."

With straight arms and legs, the girls lacked grace and feeling as we began this lesson in dancing. The girls decided that we would each sit in a separate corner of the living room moving to the middle each time a new carol began. Gabby started first then was joined by Syd and me. A pattern developed, and soon we were practicing a dance program for Christmas Day.

"Let's try something different," I said. "Each will take a turn dancing alone. I want you to feel the music when you dance. Don't think about it. Feel it."

Gabby's blank face told me that her dancing full of energy and wild motion was not going to change. She was already uninhibited. I danced across the room feeling the same passion I felt when my young limbs melded with the music. Syd began her dancing with stiff limbs conscious of her movement. With encouragement and direction, she began dancing with music in her limbs flowing into a new awareness of herself.

I am willing humiliated myself on Christmas Day, because it is what I should do for my granddaughter. There is bond I have with these girls. It comes from them learning from me, me learning from them. We discover new dialogue, new experiences together.

"Grammy, I wish we didn't have TV and technology," Syd said. "I like it when we talk and do things together." She wows me with her understanding. “Me, too, Honey.”

As my granddaughters go through their lives, I hope they dance. I hope you do, too.

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