The secret of youth is found in the touch of a dance instructor
Harold was a sixty year old man with silver hair and the posture of a ballroom dancer. He whistled as he strolled past Miss Mayford’s dance studio. Just behind him walked two ladies who had just left the establishment.
“You know how they say dancing keeps you young?” one said to the other. “Well, my husband seems to be getting younger and younger every time he comes home from a lesson with Miss Mayford.
It’s been a year now, and not only is there a spring in his step, but his grey hair is gone. I swear he hasn’t used any hair coloring and yet it’s completely brown.”
“You don’t say! I noticed the same thing about my husband,” the other woman responded. “And what’s more is his cholesterol and blood pressure have both gone down. I swear even the scars from the accident five years ago have vanished. Do you think that it’s true what they say about Miss Mayford?”
“I don’t know. It’s pretty far fetched. I think growing younger is just a psychological effect from dancing. …But sometimes I do wonder.”
Harold stopped and let the ladies pass. His interest was piqued from overhearing their conversation, and he wondered who this Miss Mayford was. It seemed a lifetime ago that he had taken dance lessons, and this conversation took him back to his own experience.
Anna had been Harold’s love of his life. Perfectly straight long blond hair, deep blue eyes, and a dazzling smile, she glided like an angel, whether she was dancing or walking or simply just gesturing with her hands. He had come to her for dance lessons a year after his wife died, seeking the touch and company of a woman. His life had gone gray, as had his hair.
Every time Harold danced with Anna, he felt a little more alive. She lifted his spirits with her grace and beauty, and she made him feel more confident. He felt stronger and had the energy again to start jogging every morning. Life began to look more colorful and clear. In fact, when he went to his optometrist, his prescription had gotten better! And oddly, just as the women had described, his gray hair turned brown and it grew in thicker. It took him a while to attribute the body changes to his dancing, but he too had heard the adage that dancing kept you young. He just thought that meant it kept you fit.
Harold took dance lessons with Anna once a week until he was craving her company so much, he wanted to date her. But she was only twenty-five, more than half his age. So he settled for taking dance lessons three times a week for four years. During that time, however, more odd changes happened to Harold.
His eyesight improved so much, he no longer needed glasses. His hearing sharpened. His body aches and pains lessened and completely disappeared. His age spots evaporated and the wrinkles on his face smoothed. But it was when he was looking through his picture albums of when his late wife and he were young lovers that he noticed the oddest thing. His face now looked like the man in those pictures, not the one in the mirror. He was thirty years old.
Through the years, Harold and Anna had grown close and he had fallen in love with her from the first dance. When he realized he was now young enough to date her, he took a chance and asked her out. It wasn’t long before they were lovers.
But as he continued to stay with Anna, his anti-aging sped up. It wasn’t dancing with Anna that shed the years from Harold. It was her touch. He didn’t know if he should be horrified or jubilant at this realization, but he knew if he continued with Anna, he would grow so young he would become a child. It was at that time he decided to leave.
Harold sought another dance instructor but none of them ever fulfilled him like Anna. They could teach him steps and technique, but the light had gone out. The joy was lost. It had been Anna that made it magical. So he put away his dancing shoes.
A few years later, Harold had read in the newspaper that Anna’s studio had caught fire and she had died.
Harold walked back to Miss Mayford’s studio and opened the door. He felt a rush of serenity envelop him the moment he stepped across the threshold, like he was transported from reality to a different world. He felt like he’d been there before, but this was not the same studio.
“Can I help you?” said a tinkling voice across the room.
Harold was taken aback. It was as if Anna had not aged at all. She was still the 30 year old beauty he remembered gliding across the floor to greet him.
“I’m Joy. Are you looking for dance lessons?” she said, extending her hand.
“I’m…I’m…Harold,” he stammered. He took her hand automatically and felt the same sense of serenity pass through the handshake. “No, I don’t dance anymore.”
“Oh?” questioned Joy.
Her eyes had that same welcoming curiosity that compelled him to share.
“I once took lessons from an instructor who looked just like you. I swear, you have been…”
“Her daughter,” Joy finished. “My mother was Anna. She told me one day a man named Harold would come by. You are just the way she described him when she first met him.”
Comments