I’ve been fighting it for a few weeks now but today made some major concessions towards admitting that winter is approaching. The furnace was turned on, much to the pleasure of a wife that can now take off her mittens and scarf to watch television, and instead of the hike that I had planned I spent the morning roller skating, much to the pleasure of a little girl that has grown tired of being told that’s an activity for when it’s too cold outside to do anything else.
We had a blast, as always. The place where we go is small, a rubberized floor as opposed to wood, just as much dance floor as skating rink so more time is spent busting moves than ass bones. One of the greatest things about childhood is never caring about what other people are thinking about you and one of the best things about having a child is how easy that feeling is to catch when you are with them. If you are dancing with a seven year old and worried about looking foolish then you are doing it completely wrong.
Kids allow you to act like a kid, but a funny thing happened as I was jamming out to Michael Jackson’s “PYT”, backwards naturally, my booty shaking and my arms waving. I looked around and noticed that I was by myself, my daughter having decided to move back over to the carpeted area to practice going backwards herself.
After satisfying myself that she hadn’t purposefully put distance between us, another funny thing happened. I went back out there and carried on.
Photocredit : iStockphoto
A few nights prior I had gone to a show by country/blues-rock/soul singer Ryan Kinder, one of my new favorite people to listen to. It was a Thursday and he’s still relatively unknown so there were far fewer people in attendance than someone of his talent should draw, an empty dance floor in the middle that was only briefly occupied by a handful of older women that soon left after being denied further beverages.
Off to one side, less conspicuous but having just as much fun, was an older guy, a regular that I had seen there before. I don’t think that he was intoxicated, am pretty sure that he hadn’t managed to smuggle a small child in with him, but I’ll tell you friends: this guy was feeling it. He had no partner and only a marginal amount of rhythm but I found myself absurdly envious of his lack of self-consciousness.
I’m not saying that next time that guy off to the side dancing his ass off is going to be me, but I’m not saying that it won’t be either. I also have only a marginal amount of rhythm but I’m increasingly finding myself less and less inclined to care.
Dance like you’re drunk, live like you’re seven years old. Those people are enjoying themselves a lot more than the rest of us are.
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This post was previously published on thirstydaddy.com and is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: Shutterstock
