I grew up with dancing parents. They danced whenever the opportunity was there. And they did it well. One of the memories engraved in my mind forever is me marvelling at the way the fell into step with each other, gliding effortlessly as if they each knew the other's next move. Complete unison. I was always in awe.
There was a certain comfort that came from watching them. I knew, even when everything else in our lives were falling to pieces they would somehow find their step again and the dance would continue.
I can't remember a Christmas without a fight. I've never had a warm, excited feeling thinking about the holidays. It's only been in the last three years that I have started putting up a tree in my own home. I decided I need to make Christmas special for myself otherwise I will forever think of it with a knot in my stomach. Six days after Christmas, however is new year and at new year my parents danced. I was in awe, they had fallen in perfect step with each other again. The dance continued.
Growing up I got criticised a lot for my sense of style and although I was always a lanky, almost awkward girl, I was praised for "losing weight". I was told on many occasions that I am two-faced and not a good Christian. Today I recognise that it came from a place of ignorance, but at age 13 and 14 those words edged a doubt into me that took years to disarm. One of my favourite songs was by Abba. "Chiquitita, you and I know, how the heart aches come and they go and the scars they're leaving. You'll be dancing once again and the pain will end, you will have no time for grieving". After all the harsh words, the dance always continued.
When, by the grace of God, I was able leave home and go to university I probably spent 4 out of the 7 nights of my first year dancing away in clubs till they closed. Subconsciously, I think it was my way of telling myself I was going to be okay and I can finally breathe and just be me. I was never really interested in alcohol till my second year when I discovered it had a wonderfully numbing effect, but that is a story for another day.
To this day, I marvel at couples dancing. I think of my parents. I think of things that hurt me and things that made the hurt not so hurtful. It wasn't perfect, but the dance always continued
Comentarios