Last weekend, Mr. P (aka my husband) took pity on my hobbled self.

“If I can’t dance,” I pleaded, “can we at least go see other people dance?”

Though Mr. P and I have much in common (shared dreams, shared love, shared life, shared preference for long walks on the beach, etc.), dance is not one of those things. Attending a dance concert with me is a pure act of love on his part. Needless to say, at times like these I hope he finds it worthwhile, beyond just making me happy.

When we attend a dance concert together, it’s interesting for me to observe his reactions and compare them to my own. Are the dancers communicating a concept, and emotion, a message, or a thing of beauty just to people who “get” (and I say that word somewhat facetiously) dance, or are they being universal in their outward communication?

It was nice to see that Mr. P and I were pretty much on the same page for the whole show, and that he had some insights that were really interesting. I could tell from his face that he had enjoyed the first piece in the show, which seemed to be about people in crowded places, with a motif of a seething mass of dancers. “They looked like earthworms,” said Mr. P. That’s exactly what they looked like.

At intermission, there was a drawing for a free pair of tickets. Guess who won? Mr. P, of course. “It’s always the person that doesn’t really care about winning that wins,” he laughed.

I’m just happy because that means I get to go on another dance concert date with Mr. P!

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