Prim and proper…ironed and pressed…awaiting the challenges of
the day.
Impressions to be made.
Rights to be wronged.
Fires to put out.
Lessons to be taught.
Yet an undercurrent of gratitude and thankfulness pervades
the mundaneness of this daily grind.
Feeling blessed some may call it, but it is a benefit of
breathing and sharing the oxygen around us with our fellow strugglers.
An outpouring of this gratitude is expressed in private
moments in my car and behind my desk…
When an inexplicable incident of smiling spreads across my
face as my toe taps and gyrations are produced that, under a watchful eye,
would cause any grown man to blush.
No audience is present; no record contracts or visions of
stardom; no one to impress.
Just a freedom of movement and motion that keeps despair at
bay and fights off the thick depression that can accompany reality.
This private dancing is a reminder that my heart still beats
and, because of that, there is still a reason to dance.
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