Dance by Gillian

I’ve always loved what we used to call “ballroom dancing.” In my youth, in England anyway, it was one of those “social skills” taught in schools. Being trundled around the gym by gawky boys in farm boots and with sweaty palms was totally uninviting, but I was lucky. For some reason there was a serious female surplus in my year, so many girls had to dance together. Hey! I learned to lead at about thirteen.

          No wonder I’m gay!

My husband also loved to dance. We could waltz and two-step for hours.

Betsy loved to dance. We could waltz and two-step for hours.

Alas, with Betsy’s back problems and my bum knee, not to mention that miscellany of other age-induced aches and pains, we slowly cut back on the dancing until now we only take to the floor a few times in one evening, and skip the faster numbers.

We were a bit discouraged about it, one more joy severely minimized by that bloody aging thing, along with all-day hikes and backpacking trips. 

Betsy fears that her days of tennis and skiing are perhaps for the chop before long: things that have meant so much to her practically since she was just a little butch baby.

So we are working on our attitudes.

If you can no longer do things that have brought you endless joy over many years, be grateful for those many years.

Be content to remember the many, many things you have been fortunate enough to enjoy for so long: things that many others less fortunate have never experienced.

         Wallow in your happy memories rather than resentment and regrets.

We sometimes sit, on a cold snowy winter morning, and sip at our coffee while watching a computer slideshow of one of the many warm and wonderful places we have been, and fortunately traveling is still something we can do. But we see a vision of the future in which we watch those rotating photos of endless things we can no longer do, and that’s OK.

We are fortunate enough to know what it is like to do them, and that’s enough.

         And with luck our writing abilities, limited as they may be, will continue for a while yet.

         So through this wonderful story telling group we can relive endless experiences by sharing them with others who do the same.

Perhaps we are only just beginning to see the endless positives to come from and to this group, and each and every one of us in it.

About the Author

I was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting myself as a lesbian. I have now been with my wonderful partner Betsy for 25 years.