In Which the Shoes Go Back On.

Tonight I'm doing something I haven't done in about 8 years.

I'm going to a jazz dance class.

Last time I re-entered that world (1997?), I distinctly remember how good it felt that from the very first lesson, I could pretty much keep up with everyone else . And that I still had my flexibility.

I also remember getting a little too confident in my high kicks and throwing my left leg in the air with such gusto that my right leg came out from under me. (Fortunately, I had acquired a little extra padding during the college years, and I landed safely.)

After that initial hiccup, I stuck it out through 3 years in my twenties. Complete with dance recitals, even. And a competition where our group scored in the highest tier.

But then, life happened. Other adults started to drop out for various reasons. I turned to other priorities.

And now I'm going to see if I might turn (chené?) back this direction for a while.

Post-class update:
Dang, I'm old and out of shape! And the neurological pathways that get my body to dance like my brain knows how to... are gone. But I'm glad I went, and I still think I'll keep trying to reawaken this part of me.