My older brother, James, loves to dance. Even at 5 years old, I was too self-conscious to try, until he taught me to do The Twist. That was quickly followed by The Limbo, The Chicken Dance, The Electric Slide, and the motions to YMCA.
Suddenly, the Saturday night dance was the highlight of our many family camping trips, along with the hot dogs, marshmellows–and s’mores–mountain pies, and anything else we could cook over the campfire.
These days I neither dance nor sit around a campfire, but I hold them fondly in the twists and turns of my memory. I’m forever grateful to my big brother for bringing me out of my shell.
My response to
Six Sentence Stories, Twist.