Dear Diary

January 23, 2002

Dear Diary,

Six days I have been stuck in this bed now. Six days! I know it was a terrible fall. I know that lifts go wrong. I am just so very thankful that my dance partner landed so gracefully. You know… on that padded portion. She wasn’t hurt but for her ego. I am tired of our trainer insisting I must have a week of bed rest. It is only a cramp I tell you. Only a cramp! I am ready for the competition. I really am ready. My shoulder is fine.

I am so tired of laying here staring out of this window. It seems my only enjoyment is watching a squirrel scamper up and down a tree. I believe he is enjoying his task of gathering breakfast much more than I am enjoying mine of healing.  Now that I think about it though, he is quite amazing. It appears effortless the way he places his feet. It is elegant how he grasps the bark with a quick light touch. He runs through a patch of sunlight as if wanting to be in the spot light. I wonder, is he being led by an unseen hand? I enjoy this show outside of my window but I would much rather be dancing than watching a squirrel do his chores.

I have always loved to dance. My favorite is the waltz. There is a grace and an elegance contained within the box step. I am inspired by the smoothness and circular pattern of a step formed from a square. Believe me, I would much rather be dancing than bowling, much less laying in this bed. That is for sure. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy bowling, but I love to waltz!

I enjoy the long flowing gowns and beautiful hair that accentuate the rhythm and rhyme of three four time. Tears have fallen for the presence of a large band moving every heart in the room. Hearts have fallen too. The sharpness of a well dressed man firmly leading his partner to the depth of herself is a sight to behold. It is a display that may linger... forever.  I have been enlightened by crystal chandeliers and captivated by eyes that speak in a whirl of emotion. I have heard the call of leather and been drawn by the scent of a woman. A ballroom truly is a playground for the soul.

Boy that squirrel sure is busy. He must be awfully hungry.  Um, that reminds me, “Where is that milkman?” The doctor said I should be drinking extra milk if I am going to be stressing my bones to that degree.

Bye for now.


Stargazer

(472 words)