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Making pancakes, as I learned at AP's birthday bash at the beach this weekend, is an unbelievably tedious chore. I don't know why I...

Tuesday, March 06, 2007


This afternoon at the gym, I passed by the aerobics room and was stopped dead in my tracks by a beautiful and moving sight. What caught my eye was the small Asian woman dancing alone. In the late afternoon, she often practices her dancing in that room. I could not hear any music, yet she moved elegantly in time to a waltz that must have played in her heart. I watched the woman dance with her arms poised around the partner she imagined held her and twirled her.

She gently rested one tiny hand on her imaginary partner's shoulder while her other hand floated in air as though held by a strong hand. Her movements were so smooth she appeared to skate on the wood floor. She held her head high and glided with strength and majesty. I watched for a moment and absorbed the beauty in her dance. I opened my heart to the lesson, and it softly but firmly landed on my heart.

She practices. She dances. She has no partner, but she knows that she will one day dance with him, and she wants to be ready.

She has no one to hold her up, yet this woman's dance was not diminished by the absence of a partner.

Her grace was more clearly seen because she was alone.

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