The Dance

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to learn how to dance.  I have memories of Saturday evenings with my sister prancing around the family room floor in our long flannel nightgowns and pink curlers while Lawrence Welk, with conductor's baton in hand, took Norma Zimmer,  in her floor length chiffon dress, and floated across the dance floor.  My dreams have matured to Dancing with the Stars as my neighbor and I "knowledgeably" critique the stars from the couch.  My dreams came true when we moved here and Chad surprised me by taking me to dance lessons.  Dance lessons here are the social thing to do.   All levels gather in the College gym to practice and learn new steps.  Dancing is not as easy as it looks.  The first few weeks were very frustrating for both Chad and me as we struggled with how to handle two left feet, what direction to go, who was really leading the dance, trying not to step on the other person toes or just completely knock them over, and many other marital issues.  We have begun to feel more comfortable with how to move our feet to different types of music.  I am relaxing enough to realize when Chad is trying to move me in a certain direction.  I am beginning to feel the music.  

This past weekend we had our first dance.  The theme was the Wild West.  The day of the dance I was walking downtown with a friend and we ran into another girl from our class.  We excitedly exchanged notes on what we were going to wear and what we were bringing to eat.  You would have thought we were a couple of school girls getting ready for prom!  

That evening Chad & I arrived at the dance hall.  We put our food down and found some seats.  We began visiting.  Getting out there and dancing was something neither of us were feeling overly courageous to attempt.  We were saved by other people who had been at it for several years asking us to dance.  They were quite comfortable with just pushing us around!  The evening was quite social as we began to chat with the people in our class.  Norm (with whom I am dancing in the photo) shared stories with me of dancing with his late wife.  Dancing was their favorite thing to do.  It was quiet the rage in Wairoa during the war with 7 different dance halls to go to on a Friday night.

The night was over soon enough.  I am looking forward to this weeks class and learning more although I will never be a Norma Zimmer and all I wish to do is dance under the stars with my husband.

No Worries - Kris