I have rhythm but I can’t dance. My body lost its ability to coordinate movement when I was about 14 and never got it back. It’s cool. I can move what counts to the beat and make it hot, when I put on a show.
The muscle memory kicks in when Britney’s playing tho. I can feel her become one with me. Rhythm nation and movement meet. My mind and my body synchronized. Her spirit fills up my heart with joy and laughter, togetherness well, it’s all I’m after.
Whenever I’ve needed Brit, she’s been there and as life would have it, her voice was the key that unlocked my deepest memory.
I was sexy dancing in the house feeling like Britney Spears, pointing to my left, then pointing to my right, a neck spin, then in comes a bounce from the spine, when, suddenly, I remembered my mother.
We were there that Saturday night! When it happened! My brother and I were in the apartment the Saturday night my dad was shot by my mom’s new boyfriend!!
My parents were already separated so he went to pick us up for the weekend. That’s what we were told. That’s what my dad said.
Pero like, why was he there so late at night? Why was he inside the apartment if my mom’s boyfriend was already there? Nothing makes sense and that familiar feeling of running away returns.
I twirled and twirled and twirled until I couldn’t twirl anymore in hopes of getting the questions out of my head.
But it didn’t work. Triggered and needing to feel something, I went to the nike store. I needed to get out of the apartment and get new sneakers for my trip.
Starring at a pair of Jordans, I had this life altering, earth shattering thought:
MY DAD LIES!!!!!!!
It hadn’t occurred to me that he could be lying about my original sin. Something in me shifted and I felt comforted. Resolute. I don’t have to think about this today so I pack my 23s in the suitcase I’m taking to Paris. And scheduled a meeting with my astrologist.