I took a deep breath... A light smell of honey filled my lungs. I opened my eyes and saw my partner smiling because he made a joke about my dancing:
“You forgot your part in the dance? Don’t worry - the teacher won’t torture you for too long.”
His face, shining with happiness like a sun, trembled with laughter and made me chuckle. At the same time, other dancers, sliding from side to side, were sharpening their moves for the next competition, while our beloved teacher, standing on stage in her favorite green sweat pants and a yellow silk scarf, was greeting the audience:
“Good morning, my lovely girls and boys! Are you ready to rock?”
With a huge smile on my face I remembered that today was the waltz day. The day when dancers from the whole club get a chance to attend a masterclass of the professionals and gain a priceless experience. I am not saying that we were not professionals. Undoubtedly, four years of hard work didn’t go to waste. However, our skills could’t be compared to the teacher’s.
Suddenly I was woken up from my thoughts when my partner grabbed my arm and made my head turn with dancing. I found myself in an imaginary world where music transforms into motley spurts of flame. Where people dance like snow flakes, spinning in the winter. Where you can feel every step on the floor like your heartbeat.
Where you belong.
When we heard that the lesson was going to start soon, my partner and I moved to our spot, and silence filled the room. I could’t resist looking around: full of excitement and the desire to learn, students of different ages were standing still with their mouths slightly opened and watching our teacher revealing secret details of the dance: fluttering on the stage she was showing the spins and turns, while her scarf was following her around and making her moves so elegant and unrealistically smooth. And her sweet voice... Like hot chocolate in the morning.
And then it was our turn to at least try to repeat these gorgeous dance moves. Students would split into pairs and the music would fill the room again. Like milk in tea, our teacher would be engrossed by the crowd of spins and swings. Like a butterfly she would fly between the pairs and correct the movement of their arms, the position of their heads, the direction of their gazes.
As soon as she approached us, a joy filled my heart. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. All I could do was watch her with an open mouth, softly moving my fingers and my head in the right position. I felt warm in my heart, and I knew right at that moment that it would be the best day of my life.
And it still is.
After so many years I can still remember the ring she gave me that day so that my hand would look graceful. I remember the small talks we would have before and after competitions. I remember...
My memories - it’s all that is left from her in this world...
I will never see her again, I will never hug her again, I will never feel like I belong again...
But I will remember.
