Endless Dance

Cold wind slithers by, pokes between coat and clothing, sends shivers through her body. Half numb fingers fumble with keys, she leans against the door until she finds the right one. Gaining entry she shakes , dog like, tossing the memory of cold from her. It is dim inside, only the security lights, and the intermittent moments of sunlight through spring clouds giving any visibility. She tosses her coat and purse on the front desk. It is an hour or two before any students will come. She leaves the lights low, turns up the heater just a few notches. A few quick twists and her long drape of hair is captured in a bun. A momentary pause at the cd shelf, long fingers draw out a single slender volume. A slow, earthy melody fills the room. She leans down, exchanges street shoes for ballet slippers, tosses aside sweat shirt. Even with the heater up, cold air greets unwary legs, and she quickly pulls legwarmers up a little higher. Long arms reach skyward, draws her body up in an infinite line from floor to ceiling. She arches back, a graceful C, stretches muscles , warming them. She stands posed a moment, alone in a half dark studio, blanketed in a brief silence. A new song begins, full of rythm and strumming guitars. Toe, ankle , knee, a swift shift of weight, and she is dancing. Her foot falls are feather light. Fingers, wrist and elbow, flow gracefully from 1st through 5th positions. She spins till she is breathless, and then leaps. She flies across the room, back arched , arms parallel with extended legs. The music ends as her foot touches, toe, ball ,heel , to the floor. She stands a moment, then folds from her hips, chest touching knees, fingers brushing the floor. Amoment more and she stands again. She removes the cd from the player, puts it back among the others on the shelf. She dons her sweatshirt and street shoes. She turns the lights on and runs a broom across the gleaming wooden floors. In the bathroom she checks her features, wrinkled with years of laughter. Touches up lipstick, and lets down her silvered tresses. Satisfied she goes into the front room, hangs her coat, greets the young teacher as she walks in the door. Quietly she begins working books at the front desk, and smiles as the first student walks in.