Two couples came over last weekend for a socially distanced, outside-in-the-cold birthday gathering for one of our friends. When he arrived, he had the “Celebration” song by Kool & The Gang playing on his cell phone. “Let’s dance!” he said.
My husband and our other friends stood up to shake their booties. I got up too, then I just stared at the ground, frozen. I couldn’t remember if I start off on my left foot or my right or what to do with my arms. It seems my Covid-era feet have got no rhythm.
My next thought was to wonder what other creative muscles have atrophied in this time of coronavirus. I still sing now and then, mostly in the shower, but the other day a few friends burst into song on a Zoom call, and I noticed I was way off key. I haven’t written anything since this pandemic started other than this blog. I did take an art class, but my own mother asked why the mandala I drew looked like a squashed cantaloupe.
I can still recite my favorite Shakespeare sonnet (I just tried and it’s still there). And just yesterday I sent a creative idea to a friend to help with her holiday sales, so I guess my creative juices are still flowing a little.
I think what really scared me about that dance moment was wondering if I’d forgotten how to have fun. Or worse yet, if I’d ceased to be fun. 2020 has been a heavy year. I’m…
