I’m trying to improve in my writing, and in my storytelling, and fortunately for me, this blog is the perfect place. I can stretch, and dream, and grow in my skills, and share the journey with you, sweet friends. As a result, I’ve subscribed to The Daily Post at WordPress, which sends out writing prompts and challenges. I find these do inspire me to write, and also to reminisce and relive some treasured memories that I don’t always visit on a day to day basis. Here’s one such entry:
In my earliest memories of dancing, I’m under my auntie Nancy’s dining room table, (which had been pushed off to the side of the room), watching my mom, dad, aunties, and uncles all dancing on the hardwood floor to a never-ending stack of 45 records, dropping one after the other. I remember foot-high stacks of 45s all around the record player. The song that I remember playing most? Twistin’ the Night Away by Sam Cooke. Every time I hear that song, I remember auntie’s spontaneous dance parties. What are your earliest and fondest memories of dance?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us MOVEMENT.
I have many memories of dance. Some are simply twirling around the living room, or a grocery store. Many come from my dance class years, lovely moments in ballet class or jazz class, the whirlwind of the year-end show filled with dazzling lights, costumes, and my first forays into makeup. Dancing with friends on tropical vacations, either on the beach or at the onsite discotheque. But my very favourite is a bit more recent, and is composed of two memories that intertwine.
It was our wedding day. We had carefully chosen a song that we felt was sweet, had good lyrics that matched a wedding, as well as a nice melody and tempo – it felt right, it had magic, and it fit us. The song was “Faithfully” by Journey, and we chose the Glee cover since it had turned the 80’s ballad into a romantic duet with a stunning backing choir.
For the dance, we wanted more than simply swaying alone on the dance floor for 4 minutes, but didn’t quite want to go with an all-out choreographed routine. So we decided to practice and incorporate a few sweet dips and spins… and a lift. This could go either very well, or very badly (and hilariously). Of course, we needed to practice. So one evening, we decided to try. In the apartment that was to be our home, we put on the music one warm summer evening. I wore my bridal crinoline slip so we could get used to the fluffy trumpet shape of the skirt, and a white tank top. We were both in head-to-toe white, and the breeze gently sifted through the open windows as the view began to turn pink in the sunset. We danced, we practiced dipping and spinning, the air was filled with the beautiful strains of the music. The lift took a few attempts – the idea was for Nick to spin me out, and then reel me back in and smoothly pick me up as if he was about to carry me over a threshold, but instead to spin around in a circle or two, before gently putting me back on the ground. It took a little while to understand the physics of it, and we had to practice it a bit. If it turned out, during the moving crescendo of the song, it would be beautiful. We were ready. The music played, the crescendo began, and we went for it. I spun out, gracefully extending my arm out. Then in a swift movement, I spun in, and he swept me off my feet into his arms, spun magically, and then a delicate descent.
The practice run was perfect, but now it was the moment we were waiting for. Our wedding day. I remember the opening strains to the music began, and Nick leading me onto the dance floor. It was a warm summer evening again. The city was turning pink with dusk. But this time, instead of white cotton, there was beaded white satin and a dashing black suit. There were structure curls and a tiara, pre-planned makeup and hair products. There were candles all throughout the room, and bright fuschia rose petals strewn about. We were surrounded by dear friends and family. I remember thinking “This is it. Our first dance as husband and wife, right after our first meal as husband and wife.” For a moment, everything else faded away, and I felt as if we were dancing on a cloud. And then, the crescendo began. I spun out. He pulled me back in, and swept me off my feet in every sense, and I remembered. The sweet practice run, the lovely result on our wedding day, how safe I felt in his arms, floating, flying. It was perfect.
We’ve danced to that song many times since that day, and we don’t usually do flying lifts in our living room, but I still remember that breathtaking moment, and the layers of memories, each time that crescendo plays, and really, each time we dance together.
What are your memories of dance? Did you do this writing challenge?