My Boots Have Retired

I wouldn't consider myself much of a hobby kind of person.  In fact, I dread that section on "get to know you" surveys:  List your favorite hobbies.  Umm... reading?  running?  breathing?  I consider them more lifestyle interests rather than hobbies.  When I think of a hobby I think of crafty or unique activities such as carpentry, kayaking, collecting bugs- none of which I participate in.  However, there is one outlier activity in my life that could wiggle itself onto my ever-growing hobby list... dancing.  Obviously I am too embarrassed to ever include that on a self-descriptive application of any sort.  I am fearful I would come across as an accomplished ballet dancer or at this age, teach classes to three year olds learning to tap dance.  When I talk about dancing in my own life, I am referring to country dancing at a dance hall.  Impressive, I know.

It all began when I went to Hurricane Harry's my freshmen year of college.  I wore my Converse shoe knock offs, jeans, a cute shirt, and my hair down with carefully placed curls.  Obviously I had no idea what I was doing, but a few guys were gracious enough to give me a chance and teach me the ways of the dance floor.  After leaving, I was addicted.  My addictions go beyond "that was fun, I would like to do it again."  It's more of a "that was fun, I MUST go again, and I MUST improve, and I MUST practice... or I will never be the person I am supposed to be in life." A little dramatic, but I am just being honest.  Thus the summer between freshmen and sophomore year, my friend Allie and I went to Billy Bobs (yes, THE Billy Bobs in Fort Worth) as many Thursday nights as possible.

Sophomore year did not lend to a lot of extra time to go dancing, therefore putting my new ambition on the shelf for awhile.  But the dancing world still seeped into my daily life.  I began listening to country music.  Often.  It's not that I was inspired by the lyrics, or felt that the tunes were catchier than another genre, it's that listening to country music made me think of dancing.  I could escape in my mind to spinning on the dance floor song after song.  Literally, I would visualize dancing.  Have you ever heard those stories of people who are in prison for X amount of years but visualize playing a sport every day?  Then they get out of prison and master the sport because they have already mentally mastered the game.  My schedule was my prison.  And I was determined to mentally participate in dancing if nothing else.

When Junior year rolled around, free time came in abundance.  Free time = dance time.  Every Thursday night available, I would go to the Hall or Hurricane Harrys.  Luckily, Aggie Wranglers also went dancing every Thursday night and I could watch endlessly and study every spin, turn, and step.  I therefore happened to be an average dancer by the time I met Otha Graham at Hurricane Harrys the spring semester of my Junior year.  It didn't hurt that he had some dancing skills up his sleeve along with a charming smile, great sense of humor...anyways.  Knowing Otha went dancing increased my motivation even more to improve my skills.  By the time the summer came, I was fully committed to dance on Thursday nights until graduation... in country boots, jeans, t-shirt, and hair up.  Dancing did not equate to "going out" for me anymore.  It meant losing myself in songs, rhythms, spins, turns, purposeful but relaxed arms, balanced shoulders, following the cues of my dance partner for what to anticipate next, gliding feet, trusting that whoever is leading will guide me safely around the dance floor, daring to try new moves... and leaving completely exhausted and satisfied. 

As I look back on this past year of post-college life, my entire world has been changed.  I am now married, very pregnant, and working full time.  Yes, there are aspects of college life that I miss such as being relationally busy instead of busy paying the bills.  But the aspect of college I have grieved the most is the time, energy, and passion that I could put towards dancing every week.  If I am honest with myself (boo, sometimes living in denial is ten times easier), I know that I will never have a season of dancing like that again.  I will not have the luxury of indulging in the freeing feeling of spinning on the dance floor or the high I would get from a clean, sharp, beautiful ending dip at the end of a song every week.  Sure, Otha and I could get a babysitter and go dancing every now and then.  But if we have a date night, dancing most likely will not be #1 on the list of activities.  If it does make the cut, we most likely won't spend 4 hours dancing non-stop like I used to... if nothing else because we are exhausted from raising a child.

 I still listen to country music to mentally escape back into that world.  But it does not take more than a few songs to remind me that my dancing phase will never be the same and I cannot live in the past.  Don't get me wrong, I would not trade my life now for what it was a year or two ago.  I just miss dancing.  And although I would not admit it on a piece of paper, dancing is my absolute favorite hobby.  I mean, if I were to have hobbies.