Memories of Dance.

From my earliest memories I remember standing on my Daddy's feet. His steps guiding me through the two step, the polka and free form. I have memories of Christmas where Pa would dance around the kitchen with Ma in his arms. Bing crooning White Christmas on the record player, and the lyrics dripping, like silk from Pa's lips. They would hoist me up into their arms and I would sit between them in a complete circle while my nonchalant older brother declared it lame (or the 70's version). In later years it was, my younger sisters sitting in their arms, but I gained the prime position in Pa's arms at family weddings and parties. Of course, when the smoochy numbers hit the decks Ma would be the only woman in his sights.  But when the hits were playing he was all mine.
As I grew older I found favour in the arms of my dear and trusting cousins. One in  particular would guide me around the dance floor and declare me the most beautiful girl in the room. I never felt more safe and cherished, except in my own Pa's arms. God bless you Simon. I now fully believe he was a very kind and proud cousin. He would not allow anyone near his Uncle Steve's girl! What a guy!
Still my Pa and I had the dance floor at weddings and parties. But I was now of an age where dancing all night involved girl friends and night clubs.
Jones and I would down a bottle of cheap plonk before we went out, due to our limited cash flow. Then we would hit the town, frequenting the "alternative" clubs. Those of you who have a history in Cardiff will know Bogies, The Square Club, Subways and of course Metro's. I spent many a drunken night there. Drunk and debauched! However, my night would consist of about three drinks and dancing all night with Jones to the music that "defined" us. Later there was the Hippo club. Again, all night dancing.
I don't think I have really realised how much of my life has been taken up with dance. All of this, so far has been nothing more than a way to entertain myself. I love to dance. Some say it is a way of self expression. Personally, I think it is more a way to loose yourself.

Then I come to later years. I have danced around he kitchen, living room and bedroom with my two children. In their early ears they have known what it is to follow a rhythm. They have been in a loving pair of arms and felt the flow of music. I do not feel they have missed out.
Then there is the later years. Just a few years before fibro I found a love and a need to study historic dance. I have danced on the high streets of towns, such as Carmarthen and Monmouth. I have led children by their thousands through the Pilgrim's brawl and the Horses brawl. I have taught drama students to Volta. I felt I had found my bliss. I love the way music can shape us. It can bring peace and harmony. Similarly it can stir the emotions. Music is the work of angels and I love it.
One thing I feel fibro has robed me of is dance!
DD does not dance. He does not feel comfortable dancing and it is not his forte. I cannot dance!
We have been, this evening, to a 40's night. We have had a wonderful time with our friends and neighbours. We took the cubs and they have had fun.
I have sat and watched people twice my age dance. Stepping gracefully and jauntily to 40's tunes with loved ones in their arms. I know that if I could hold myself up and tall long enough I could have led DD in a dance. We could of moved to the rhythm and cut a dashing image in the crowd.
Alas, no chance. My back is agony! I can't even walk up a fight of stairs without wheezing. A turn around the dance floor? You have to be joking!
Will this last forever? I bloody hope not!