Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Dancing Shoes

When you can use a phrase "Twenty years ago, I _________," well, then, you have reached the time of being old. Perhaps you don't feel old or look old, but you are, especially if 20 years ago your age was in the double digits.

Old is how I felt this past week when my mother showed me a pair of shoes that belonged to me when I was 17. I danced in these. By dance, I do not mean shuffling around a garishly lit dance floor with techno music blaring from speakers sitting too close to the dancers. Nope. These babies stayed on my feet for a mambo and at least one jazz dance.

The fact that I learned to dance in heels of any height is amazing. Learning to walk without falling or wobbling so much that I turned an ankle gave my mother and sister a large amount of laughter. Maverick took to heels like a duck on water. Me? Let me say that when an early diagnosis (age 24) of arthritis in my feet had a physician telling me to not wear high heels, I nearly hugged him.

My dancing shoes earned another spot in the limelight. My daughters decided they were wonderful play toys.
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