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Writer's pictureMaria N. Listman

Let’s Dance


It was a crisp 38 degrees the other morning, as the sun stretched hello.


I dropped my daughter off at school and was tempted to head home. But that little voice (you know the one) kept nagging me to go on a walk.


Driving to my favorite spot, I cranked the heat up like a mobile sauna. I took a swig of my sweet tea and tightened my scarf.


Cozy.


Like, I don't wanna get out; leave me alone.


Cozy.


My physical therapist had told me that "people my age" need to stretch before a workout. Isn't that sweet?


Per usual, I didn't follow directions.


I started walking, then jogging to keep my bum warm. As I cut left on my favorite trail, I picked up the pace. I ran the hill until the mud nearly got the best of me.


At that point, I had Pitbull thumping in my ears and the need to keep moving. But the mud was thick and my ankles, unsteady. So I walked along the cattail rim. My hips started to wiggle as my feet did the cha-cha. I flicked my head up with sass and spotted her.


Hot damn!



Me and my shadow were like those funhouse mirrors. I swayed in the sunshine as my inner child giggled. No one was around, but that wouldn't have stopped me.


I was having a moment!


My children get frustrated when I do stuff like this in public. Yes, I'm that person. I'll embarrass myself for the sake of being joy-filled.


Here's the thing - I know deep pain. I understand sorrow. So I choose joy, and a bit of silliness. It may be too much for you, and that's alright.


What I do hope is that you find some childlike wonder throughout your day.


And seriously? Go play!


Put on some music and handle your business.







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