an old love

I used to dance. Middle eastern ethnic dancing more specifically (don't call it belly dance around my old teacher). Most people, looking at me, wouldn't immediately jump to the conclusion that I'd go for that at all. (I'm an accountant, for goodness sake. Me, running around in costume, dancing, yelling, playing a drum?)

I stopped for a couple of reasons. Work got too hectic (they let my boss go) and I would be working a lot of overtime for awhile. Main reason - after 11 years, the passion just wasn't there. If it becomes a chore to perform, rather than a joy, it's time to stop. I haven't danced for about a year and half. I don't miss the work - just the people. Our troupe was a group of wonderful and diverse women.

The phone rang last night rather late - it was my old dance instructor and leader of the troupe. When caller ID came up with her name I got this panic-y feeling - was she going to ask me to come back? What would I say? What would I do? Did I want to dance again?

Turns out she wanted to know if I'd be interested in parting with some of my troupe costumes. A couple of new troupe members needed some things and it would be easier (and probably much less expensive) if they bought them from me. Being in a performing troupe like this can become extremely expensive, especially at first.

I'm happy to part with some of my costumes (what am I saving them for - Halloween?). But there was that instant of disappointment - I halfway wanted her to ask me back. I'd've said no, but it would have been nice to be asked.

Life goes on, doesn't it? I'm happy the troupe is doing well and I'm thinking about going to her next seminar, just for fun. But I've moved on and I'm happy doing the things I'm doing now.