Saturday I made my triumphant return to Zumba. I haven't been in years, but my manic moves from the back row proved to be as hilarious now as it was five years ago. I probably wouldn't have gone if it weren't for Aubrey. I take that back, I know I wouldn't have gone if it weren't for Aubrey. Apparently, my attendance alone was reason for her to wake up early on a Saturday.
So, yeah. I stood there in the back row "booty popping" to Rhianna and Sean Paul, sweating like a mom in spandex, dancing like a mom in spandex, each move about five seconds behind the instructor. But I felt great. Aubrey danced next to me, enjoying herself as much as I was but with nary a giggle in my direction. That right there folks is a sign of a very good friend.
Aubrey's got talent and not just in a zumba studio. She just graduated with her doctor doctorate, or M.D., Ph.D. if you are keeping tabs. And thanks to her new letters, she's leaving me and Nashville in the dust, off to practice pediatric hematology oncology and save a few lives along the way. It just so happens she can dance.
I'm not sure there is anything like the high that comes with dancing like an idiot. In fact, that's probably how I met Aubrey. I know for a fact there is at least one incident where I bopped her in the nose with a flying arm because I was feeling the music. She was also there the night I did blow out my knee.
This was not the night I blew out my knee.
Aubrey knows I dance like a maniac. She knows I am high strung and crazy when it comes to dirty dishes in the sink or when I find a rash on Bennett's tummy or a bump on his head. But she loves me anyway.
I can't help but thank her for dragging me back to zumba. She reminded me of all that fun we had dancing thirteen years ago. She also reminded me I can find that same exhilaration early on a Saturday morning, booty popping in the back row. I'll just be sad she won't be there to not laugh at me.