My pregnancy with my son was spent on strict bed rest lying on my left side with very little movement. Because of this, as a newborn, it was not surprising he startled and cried with each sway or step. I loaded him into a sling and we danced constantly from that moment forward. As a teenager, we would tango and jitterbug in the kitchen while clearing away dinner dishes. Neither of us could pass up the chance to dance!

“The moment in between what you once were, and who you are now becoming, is where the dance of life really takes place.” – Barbara de Angelis

Living in Steps
Dancing barefoot airily in warm sand,
Dancing flip flops slap on wood boardwalk,
Dancing sneakers stomp on cool pavement,
Dancing heels reflect on a polished dance floor,
Dancing slippers nimble on kitchen tiles,
Dancing shoes rhythmic on balcony marble. – PF

My Closet
Shoes lie empty and waiting,
Ski boots layered in dust,
Surf fins dry rotting,
Skates hang as its blades rust. – PF

“The dance is a poem of which each movement is a word.” – Mata Hari

Movement
Thumping over sidewalks cracks my wheels bounce and spin,
Slogging through carpet seas my wheels slowly spin,
Gliding over marble tiles my wheels rapidly spin,
Slipping down icy ramps my wheels do not spin,
Creaking noises over wood floors my wheels cautiously spin,
Entering through elevator doors my wheels dip and spin. – PF

The night was a success! Students and parents had a wonderful evening of fun, good food and dancing. The hour was getting late. The wait staff was preparing to end their shift. This party was coming to an end at the banquet hall nuzzled against a small marina with luxury yachts lounging in their slips.
I moved from table to table clearing our decorations from the banquet tables. I was a co-host of this dinner dance celebrating the end of a successful year for our local high school drama club. As the last of the guests were preparing to leave, parents and students gathered talking in small groups. The DJ kept the music playing while we packed boxes of flowers and gifts to leave the hall as we found it. While I was packing away flower vases from tables, my son tapped me on the shoulder. He bowed, reached out his hand and asked me to dance. The dance floor was empty as he guided me out to the center of the floor. It was the most memorable dance of my life. Only the two of us, moving effortlessly across the floor over the river shimmering with moonlight. Yes, I dropped what I was doing and DANCED!

My Feet
Feet very soft and tender,
Feet motionless under the chair,
Feet waiting for muscles to act,
Feet with treasured memories. ~ PF