A friend posted a video of Lindy Finals. It is great fun to see, even in my living room on a twelve inch screen. Being there with a big crowd of toe tapping fans would be even juicier. There is enough excitement to go around, no matter how many people are watching.

 

They make it look as easy as falling off your partner's back but I bet the reason they each get a thirty second spot is because it expends a ton of energy. That half minute of rockin' moves probably was the boon of a hundred hours of practice. 

 

Probably they have had their share of falls, to get to their level of seamless swings. I am glad they didn't get mad and quit after the first round of bruised shins. There are a few women who lean far back, trusting their partner to hold them up, which they do. 

 

I enjoy that they even took the time to coordinate their outfits. One girl has a yellow shirt, her beau has a yellow tie.

 

There are no words bantered between them, but the music provides a thrumming beat. It keeps them together when they need it most.

 

The other day a woman told me that she is touched by watching John and me with Benjamin. I was surprised, yet pleased to hear it. I realize we have worked out a rhythm over the years. I take him to school, John puts him to bed. He handles the bigger tantrums, I wrestle with insurance for his services. Sometimes we are working in sync, and other times it looks like we are going in different directions. I suppose on the best days it looks simple, but there are hundreds, perhaps thousands of hours that went into finding our stride. 

 

We do communicate with sentences, or glances, or simply remembered steps. There are days I lose my balance and he breaks my fall. We have had bruises that healed, and I confess in weak moments I looked for the exit sign, but he grabbed my hand and refused to let go.

 

I guess we are both tapping to the same music. It pounds like a heartbeat deep within, loudest when I start to forget.

 

 

 

 

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NlTVJ9fOmro