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  • Writer's pictureA is for Agape

To Dance With Eyes Closed

I watched my daughter dance today.

Not the light and fluffy dance she usually performs. Not cotton candy or just baked meringue. This was something else. It came from deep inside her. A place I didn’t know a three year old could reach.

She started out the same, “watch me mom.” And in my hurried way, I glanced toward her. I watched peripherally as she twirled and plied and then something different, a new move, she bowed and twisted, closed her eyes tightly, began to hum something deep and sonorous. I watched as she would come up, almost as if to breathe and then down again, arms hanging low, feet together, tightly, in order to make the spin last longer, and then feet wide as she again, bent low at the waist.

For a moment I was stunned, but in my obsessive way, managed to grab my camera, switched it on while still watching, now not from the side but full on her, wanting to catch every moment. I clicked a few times, hoped I captured the intensity of her face, the scrunched up look of her eyes, the pursed lips singing that song…is it the words of ‘The Cave’ by Mumford and Sons. Again, she surprises me.

Today my daughter danced.

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