Music
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Thunder of Blood
by Heather Saunders Estes
My daughter at three, twirled to songs,
loved to jump and shake, exuberance in her smiles. She stopped at ten, self-conscious, awkward. I used to dance in my teens— became body-shamed, too fat, too embarrassed. Easier to sit it out. Still, I tapped my foot. Twenty years later we are wiser. We dance: contra, swing, hard rock, line. As CEO I cheerfully started the dancing at office holiday parties— shake that booty, role-model comfort, then others joined me on the floor. If I can do it, you can. I am in charge of me. Your discomfort, your comparing bodies— I laughingly don’t care anymore. I am bird song at sunrise, hail on the roof syncopation, the moon’s waltz. |