Ballroom With Dad

There is a commercial on tv these days which uses the most beautiful tango I know to sell condos and while I find the ad less then pleasing, it did trigger the coolest memories so maybe that's what I will take away from it in the end despite the ad company's wish for me to focus on real estate. When I was little we began our dancing with the waltz and the chacha, (my brother and I under Dad's tutelage) then in time, progressed to the meringue, mambo, rumba and finally to my favourite, the tango. My dad and mom took ballroom dance lessons and as the level of difficulty of each new dance step increased, my brother was replaced by Dad to whom I became a willing partner whenever he wanted to practice which was more often than not before bedtime when I was elegantly attired in all my pajama finery. My brother became a member of the audience which best suited his youth and two left feet while I learned that there was a whole new world for me right there in our living room as Dad talked me through those intricate bends, dips and sudden turns until I became a proficient glider and lover of those dances not at all the rage of girls in my age bracket. I would gladly forego the jitterbug for a chance to circumnavigate our music room which was an extension of the living room and had a bonafide dance floor which seemed made for our duets. On that floor I became confident enough to kick off those shaggy slippers and dance with nary a worry about having my feet stepped on. Dad was my first and best teacher, he was elegant, we both loved the music and hummed along as we danced. The livingroom/music room is sttill there and hearing that tango made me able to dance backwards in time.