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I love to dance. I am not good at it. I do not claim to be coordinated (and seem to become more out of touch with the rhythm as years go by). But I love me some dance party. I love to watch people dance. I feel the joy of moving, of pumping fists and shaking hips and twirling skirts.
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After last week's post about age, I think these photos confirm that youth is in the soul.
I can only hope Aunt Mary's true joy for living is hereditary. It's fitting that last week my mom commented on the "A tiny drop" post, "Growing older is, I will agree, something you can't stop and you shouldn't worry about because you can miss so much trying to be something (younger) that you are not. The best we can do is enjoy every day, laugh, love the people around us, try not to complain too much and sort of roll with it."
When you spend too much time worrying, you can miss all the good dancing music, all the things to celebrate.
P.S. I know I'll catch some crap for posting some of these photos, which are not at all flattering but altogether wonderful anyway. Stop worrying people!
i can blog too
ReplyDeleteMuito lindo o poema, Belissimo blog, torna um Mundo Mais habitavel e aconchegante. Parabens.
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