The Dance

Welcome to the dance.

It’s one of my earliest memories. The hush and murmur of backstage, the blare of hot spotlights, the dull black stage flooring marked with masked tape position markers.

My stomach in my throat. Nerves humming at the surface. The music starts and my mind fades into the background while my feet and arms take over. Intricate steps mixed with flowing choreography, the minutes fly by until the last note plays, I look up and into the audience and feel a rush of emotions fill me.

Dancing has been a constant in my life - oh not professionally and certainly not good enough to call myself a “dancer”.

But it’s something that I cherish and I keep returning too, even as our girls start dancing at the age I started.

Dance to me is more than an activity - it’s a metaphor for life, especially parenthood.

There is a deep parallel with time flowing constantly as the music, a need to fill it with the decisions and steps that do it justice. Then there are the other dancers with whom you chose to embark on the journey with and in turn make things more complicated but also more joyful.

Being a working parent is hard. There are all the concrete complexities - the logistics, the financial strains, the endless errands and chores. But then there are the more nuanced uncertainties - am I doing this right? how’s my marriage? How am I??

And when things feel too overwhelming, I remind myself of the dance. It might seem complicated and overwhelming. Sometimes you need to let others take the lead and sometimes you need to just let the music take over.

Sometimes all it takes is looking up, making eye contact with a fellow dancer, exchanging a knowing glance and getting back into it knowing you’re covered.

That’s what I hope this can be. The little wink from across the stage that says, I see you. You’re doing incredible things. And let’s do this together.