There are very few things in this life that come above my love for dancing with Josh.
My grandpa taught me how to dance when I was very little. It started with him bouncing me around as he kept rhythm with the music. Then it progressed to twirling me around the living room with me trying to keep my feet on top of his. When I was old enough, he and my grandma began inviting us granddaughters to big band dances. He taught us how to swing dance, two-step, fox trot, and waltz. I love how weightless I feel, and how effortless it is dancing with my grandpa. He has a gift for keeping a steady beat, and being an excellent leader. His stamina when it comes to dancing is unmatched.
Josh took me to our first dance a year and a half ago. I remember mentally preparing myself for dancing with another man that wasn’t my grandpa: he probably wasn’t going to want to dance to every song like Bucko does, and he’s probably not as good of a dancer either.
My initial precautions were shattered during our first dance together. He asked me to dance, and we didn’t leave until he asked if my feet were beginning to hurt (I hadn’t even thought about my throbbing feet- I was too caught up in the dance). Josh twirled me around, spun me in circles, held me close, and made me feel like a legitimate princess. I couldn’t believe what was happening; I fell in love with him right there on the dance floor. Never before had he looked more handsome, nor more perfect.
Since that first dance, he’s taken me to many others. As of late, a new favorite of mine is moving the furniture out of the way so we can dance in the living room. We light a candle, turn on our “Slow” playlist, and gently sway to the rhythm of the music. It’s moments like those when nothing else matters. Just him and me.