Day 3

Every single weekend, I have dusted off my dance shoes and dance.

Every single weekend, I have put on my dance shoes, scrapped the suede with a wire brush until dust comes flying in my face, and then I get on the dance floor and get jiggy with it.

Every single weekend, I have been dancing for at least 3 days in a row.

Every single weekend, I have been trying to put words into actions, lyrics into movement, a bit of emotion into love.

Every single weekend, I'm getting a bit tired when I get back to my room and I sit down on my bed and sigh.

Because every single weekend, whenever I come home, the dance moments end. And I feel a little bit sad because it has ended.

But every single weekend, I am also glad that it has ended. Back to the monotony of work and dealing with patients and rushing off my feet trying to make sure everyone is okay.

Yes. Back to it.