Dancing Queen

Like all children, I lived life with reckless abandon when I was growing up. Sure, I hurtled myself down entire flights of stairs and jumped off patios. But also, I would dance and sing with no regard for anyone around me and what they might be thinking of me. And I gave them a lot of ammunition.

Then I reached a stage of my life where awkwardness and fear of judgment clouded my ability to have fun without worrying about whether or not I was making a fool of myself. I led a sad life where I censored myself so that people didn't think I was a weirdo. Then came alcohol, which pushed my fear of judgment into a haze where I knew it was there more than I could see that it was there. Unfortunately, it did nothing for my awkwardness.

Getting back to the point of this post, when I was a kid, Granny used to take me to some sort of centre. I don't know what or where it was, but there were a lot of old folks around and it took place in some sort of gymnasium. Not very helpful, I know. Mostly, I remember that they would play music and I loved it. All the old folks would dance slowly in the middle of the gym; swaying back and forth ever so gently, careful not to break a hip.

I, on the other hand, was four years old and super excited to be there. I would "dance" around the perimeter of the gym. It was a kind of weird version of the can-can, but with much more forward momentum. And fewer people.



Try as I might, I could never get anyone to dance with me. Not even the more chipper of the bunch. That only fueled my attempts; I wanted to make it look more fun to lure the old folks in. But that just seemed made it look that much more dangerous because no one ever joined me. More often than not, Granny would request that I "just sit down". Now that I think about it, I'm not sure why she brought me there; she probably wasn't very popular because of me. Mind you, I probably slept really well those nights and the quiet time was probably worth the hour of ridicule.