shall we dance?

I wish to dance. I want to whirl across a parquet floor, with long skirts gracefully swirling around me. I want to hear velvet jazz, to drown in satiny music, to immerse myself in its living rhythm. I wish to dance.

I wish for a big, empty room, with large windows overlooking trees and water, with nobody in sight or ear-shot. And me. And music. And I would dance. I would stand before a window, losing myself in the music and the beauty. And I wouldn't think about the "what if someone's watching me?" because nobody would be near.

I wish to dance, to forget people, to sink down, down, into a deep warmth as music washed over and through me, wiping the mustiness from my brain and washing the bitterness from my heart. And it would be just me, and the room, and the view, and the music. And I would dance before the Lord.

And if he chose to send me someone to dance with, someone I could forget about as I drowned in music without offending them, someone not dancing for me, but for God, then we would dance together. We would listen joyfully, not speaking, eyes closed, being thankful for music and smooth floors, and we would dance.

And it would be even better than dancing alone.