End-of-the-World Dancing

I bring that end-of-the-world kind of full body dancing to the dance floor.

I don’t remember ever not being that way. 1CC10DA9-E3E0-4ECE-99EB-43495B2F8883.jpeg

Somehow, I convinced my darling mother to rent out a dancehall for my 16th birthday. There was a DJ. Dorky me and my dorky friends were dancing. Not a care in the world — even though a guy I was crushing on was too cool to come. My uncle told me that night that I’m light on my feet.

Dancing feels like second nature to me.

I recall my mom writing in a half-filled out baby book somewhere that I would dance and sing before I could walk and talk.

She also wrote that my first “boyfriend”, in Puerto Rico, when I was somewhere around 14 months old — Juan Pablo — would literally run in circles around me, and I would just throw my head back, and laughter would pour from my tiny mouth.

Dancing.

Singing.

Being completely amused and enamored by boys who run in circles around me.

Ah, how things change…

How things stay the same…

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