TO: THURSDAY

My Darling Thursday,

I need to make something. I’m itching. Itching to create something. Sing-Sing-Sing is playing on the coffeeshop I-Pod + I want to hop off this bench and dance. I wonder if the bearded guy holding the latte would be my partner? It reminds me of that magical night way back when… I was 22. It was post “dragon derrière” performance (oh yes! I was a dragon’s booty and shared the stage with Christopher Reeve’s (yes, Superman’s) wife). It was that night when I officially became a wedding crasher.

I can’t remember if that tall guy was part of the show or a regular at that beer garden, but I do remember him pulling me through what felt like a portal into another world. A world where the women flipped + the guys hopped.  There was a live jazz band, saddle shoes galore and hundreds of wedding guests sweating in 6/8 time. So, that’s exactly what we did- we danced. Until the moon couldn’t take holding back the sun anymore.

This fairy tale wasn’t about the prince. It was all about the dance.