Session 12

We poured our way through the outdoor crowd that had amassed at the St. Exspendy Hotel's patio, everyone moving to the Brazilian beats of the band pumping out the rhythm of the evening from the gazebo in the center of the grass, and made our way to the stairs that eased down into the lawn.

This was no event for a wallflower. Everyone was dancing in a mass of movement. My eyes were wide, taking it all in the evening light, and scanning the crowd. I was with two of my most favorite people, looking for another one of my favorite persons -- my rolfer. It was a bit like trying to find Waldo.

The three of us were out on a girls night, and we were fabulous in every way possible. It was an honor to spend the evening with these supportive lovelies, as I have never really busted a move, or found my groove, or whatever happens to the body when feeling the music. But I was posed with a pinky-swear sworn over dinner prior to our arrival at the St. Exspendy Hotel: I was to dance if asked. This was a big step for me, on many fronts. An even bigger step, perhaps, to realize that you don't necessarily need a partner to get down to the seductive rhythm at this scene.

At long last, we found the purpose of our quest. After a warm welcome and an invitation to dance the next one, I honored that pinky swear.

"I've never really danced before," I said, trying to be heard above the crowd.

He looked down at me in disbelief: "You've never danced before?!"

"Only the polka, and I don't think that counts."

"Well, this can be session 12." he smiled. "I'll teach you. This one's easy..."

And it was. Gracias a dios.