dancing

830 in the morning. breakfast was served, tea spilled on the ground making puddles for tiny feet to splash through. banana peels tossed aside among egg shells and pieces of bread. i can hear the rhythm from the basketball court. children scurry from swingset to slide, from step to perch. they see me coming and run for hand, arm, leg, waist. gripping, pulling, squeezing, asking.

and the music gets louder the closer i get to the giant, tin-roof building. windows cracked for air and no fan in sight on this humid African morning.

but it doesn't seem to matter.

the music overwhelms my internal conversation and the tiny ones that beg at my sides. they are dancing. all of them. each and every single one. arms raised, feet pounding, hips moving, hands clapping. dancing. because they want to. because the earth moves under their feet. because music is the language of their soul.

it was more than i could handle, or even anticipate. beauty. i just smiled, as big as maybe i've ever smiled. and watched. they filled the stage, the rows, the seats. no reason. no direction. no event planned or facilitator watching over them.

just pure life. running from their hearts to the tips of their fingers and toes.

dance with us! they cried, and i felt ashamed of my own inhibitions, hesitations. they grab my hands, looking up into my face, "watch me!" as they took a simple step from side to side, to movement, to laughter, to hugs.

they are enjoying life, and inviting me to do the same.