Dancing is my medicine.
As a little baby, I giggled while moving my feet to the beat of the music before I could walk.
As a little girl, I pirouetted across the floor and lit up the stage.
As an energetic and rebellious teenager, I swirled on the football field.
As a college student, I picked apples out of the sky and pranced with friends as we created our version of the giving tree to educate students about our environment.
As a young and wanderlust adult, I flowed to the waves of the beat surrounded by my ATL tribe.
As I fell in love with myself in the mystical mountains of Peru, I moved slowly with familia under the trees next to the malecon.
As I fell in love with my future hubby, I tangoed in Buenos Aires late into the morning without a care in the world.
As I grew Marito inside my belly, I bobbed to the beat awkwardly in San Fran.
And as a mother, I am blossoming, and slowing down to the rhythm; saying yes to an all-natural life.
Dancing is my medicine.
Dancing is my drug.
Dancing is what gives me energy.
Dancing is what brings me home.
To this body.
To this heartbeat.
Dancing is what brings me home to this life.
