It starts from my toes, and I wrinkle my nose

Sunday, June 25, 2006 A lil' story/article i got from Joyce:

Kerry Gibson was the newest, cutest guy on the scene when i was in the eleventh grade. He went to a high school across town, and a lot of the girls at my school had fallen for his million-dollar smile and that " every mother would love him" charm. I had seen Kerry Gibson entertaining the girls after football games at Sir Pizza, but Kerry Gibson had never seen me. As a matter of fact, he had no idea that I existed.

I think it was sometime around February that year when a new teen dance club opened. One saturday, my committee of girl-friends spent the whole day deciding what each of us to wear, calling to see who else was planning to go, and worrying about our hair until there was no use and we just had to go with the hair we had. I was looking forward to being with my friends, laughing, sipping a soda, and as usual, watching everyone else dance the night away.

At some point that night my circle of friends huddled together talking to a few guys from our school. Over walked Handsome in a pair of Levi’s. You guessed it- Kerry Gibson. In his best Animal House impersonation, he said to the guy standing next to me. “Mind if I dance with your date?”

The guy beside me couldn’t get it out fast enough: “Man, she’s not with me.” And our whole circle stood there with mouths agape as if to say, “Kerry, are you sure? It sounds like you’re asking Angela to dance.” I was the most dumbfounded of all. It felt like a dream I’d had a million times; the cutest guy in the room was asking me to dance. I stood there patiently waiting to wake up. There was no way that Kerry Gibson had just asked me to dance.

“Hey, I’m Kerry.” Reality was intersecting with a dream. “Do you want to dance?”

“Okay,” I mumbled, realizing that every person who knew me was staring in disbelief. The wallflower had just been asked to dance. I don’t remember breathing. I was so afraid of ruining the whole thing.

Well, we danced. I wish I could remember the song. Some late seventies disco number. And I’m telling you, I could dance. I had practiced in my room for years, and not one groovy move had been wasted. But the song was way over too soon. His act of charity was coming to an end. I could feel it-the good deed was over. I smiled at Kerry, said, “Thanks for the dance,” and turned to walk away. But then bless him- I mean it, God bless him- Kerry Gibson said, “Wait, do you want to keep dancing?” I think I nodded yes and we kept dancing every dance until I had to go home.

Do you want to keep dancing? The question still rings in my head. It makes me cry and smile and whisper a prayer for my daughters: “God, make sure someone asks them to keep dancing.”

Do you remember the first time you were asked to dance? Do you remember being noticed? Do you remember the crazy thing that happens in your stomach when a handsome man walks towards you? What is that? And why does it make us feel like we’re floating? Are you smiling as we remember? I am.

I’ve never been sure that someone would walk across that dance floor and call my name. There have been seasons when I decided my life was suppose to be that way. Everyone else got pulled onto the dance floor, and some were even bold enough to run out and boogie by themselves, but I couldn’t. Maybe it just wasn’t meant for me. I felt my feet want to. It sure did look like fun. “Nah,” I’d tell myself. “Quit dreaming about dancing and go make dinner.”

I told joyce that this is such a fairytale story. Like really really keep on dreaming. The guy that you like, asks you to dance with him? DREAM ON GIRL. Ok. So i'll retire to my bed and sleep so that i can dream. heh.

Dreams cant come true-especially mine.