Just Dance

I am not a huge fan of country music. It always seems like some sappy story put to song. My favorite country music lyric is the one that goes "There's a tear in my beer, because I miss you dear." Now that's a classic. But seriously there is one country song that always brings a literal tear to my eye. It's embarrassing really. It's that Le Ann Womack song called I Hope You Dance. When she gets to that part of the song I turn into a blithering idiot! Maybe one day in therapy I can get to the bottom of it all. Perhaps it's because I am a mother and want my kids to fully experience life. Or possibly it's the time I was cut from the school play due to my lousy dancing. Who knows.

This past weekend my husband and I went out to dinner. We saw a familiar sight. There is a local outdoor band that plays on weekends near our dining destination. In the center of the crowd of listeners, there were a couple of dancers. How I wish I'd had my camera! We'd seen them before. They have some sweet moves. They wear matching floral shirts. They are also probably about 75 years old. But they are obviously not slowing down anytime soon, although they do bring their patriotic folding chairs to sit one out at times. My favorite move of theirs I will call the sideways choppy hands. They'd do it in sync. They don't stand all the way upright but they dance with ferver!

Part of the feeling I feel for them is embarrassment, because it's quite the silly sight. But the bigger part of me feels pride and envy towards this happy couple. I have the spirit of a performer but the guts of a scaredy cat. When the band's lead vocalist calls out for the crowd to join in on the chorus I am right there with them in full voice. However, I just can't see myself out there in 35 years with my roots dyed, my orthopedic dancing shoes on, wearing my Hawaiian girls silk shirt, and getting down with my 4 separate dance moves. Nope. And part of me feels sad for myself over that decision.