We're back from our weekend up north. The clothes are neatly put away, the boys are in their beds, and the hubby has long since been asleep. And here I am in front of the t.v. watching my DVR of So You Think You Can Dance. I'm watching Joshua and Katee thinking, 'I could have done that.' The more I watch the more I'm involved. Mark and Courtney begin and my pulse quickens. I remember how it felt. Moving my body like that. I start my third Captain and Coke thinking about the dancer I was. Way back when.
Sure I never had the classical training. But maybe I was like Joshua. One of those freaks that just picks up a dance after only a few times introduction. Maybe if I had pushed myself more. Maybe if I had buckled down. I could have been on that stage.
And here I am. I'm 32 years old and thinking I should be a professional dancer. In a career that peaks long before the age I'd had my children. But still I'm thinking I'm one of them. Or at least I was one of them.
I'll sign myself up for classes! I'll put in the call tomorrow! Sure, I'll never make it a career. And that's fine! I really love my life! But I like dancing and it will get me back in shape. And won't I feel so much younger again? So much more the girl I was? I'll call tomorrow.
I walk my third drink to the kitchen sink and dump it out. I neatly stack the glass in the dishwasher, load it with soap, and turn it on. I turn off all the lights. Turn off the television, close the windows, lock the doors, and head upstairs.
And tomorrow, I forget to call the dance studio.
Perhaps I shouldn't write when I've had a few drinks.