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在生活中翩翩起舞

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小编摘要:上了年纪的我们开始学跳华尔兹。最初,我们就像两个蹒跚学步的孩童,不是踩到对方的脚,就是撞到了一起。慢慢地,通过不断的练习和磨合,我们终于学会了共跳一支舞。

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把乔治娅抱近我,我们随音乐摇摆,慢慢旋转。在我们旁边,一对夫妇一圈又一圈快速优美地旋转着。他们的舞步与身体和着音乐的节拍,飘逸在舞池中。

“像那样跳舞难道不是很美妙吗?”乔治娅问我。

“当然啦,”我在她耳边回答。

几周后,我的女儿瓦妮莎说她打算参加男朋友的舞会。乔治娅决定安排他们上舞蹈课,作为送给他们的圣诞礼物。她找到一个舞蹈工作室,并打去电话。“你确定你和你的丈夫不想跟他们一起上课吗?”那位男士问道,“第二对报名可享受折扣。”

“噢……”我的妻子犹豫不决,“那为什么不试试呢?”

就这样,我们和另外十对舞伴一起站在了吉米舞蹈工作室的舞池中央。我听到人们的谈话。一位女士说道,“我一直就想学这个。”

“但愿我不会踩到别人的脚,” 一位50岁左右的男士对他头发花白的妻子说。

一位60岁左右、身姿矫健的男子走进房间,面向我们。他身高5英尺2英寸——如果没猜错的话。他说道:“我叫吉米。你们都是来这里学跳舞的,你们会学会的。我向你们保证,等你们学完前六周的课程,你们将会令朋友们羡慕不已。”

他戴的假发明显是多年以前配的,现在看着有点歪,勉强盖住他日渐扩大的秃顶。 我们从最基本的方形步学起;对会跳舞的人来说,这种华尔兹舞步简直是小菜一碟。我们面向彼此练习这种舞步,相互间距离几英尺远。男士左脚上前一步,女士右脚后退一步;我们的步子互为镜像。

“一、二、三!”吉米大声喊道。

好像挺容易。

“好了!”吉米说。

“请注意看我们怎么做的。”他挽起一位助手。一首安妮·莫莉的歌开始响起;她唱的是《把最后一支舞留给我》。吉米和舞伴在房间里翩翩起舞。

“我们再重新放一遍音乐。请挽起你们的舞伴。现在让我们试着跳一遍。”

吉米朝我们微笑。“很容易。你们能跳好的。”

安妮·莫莉又唱了起来。这首歌将在我们脑海里萦绕数月。我把乔治娅拥在臂弯间,右手搂着她的腰,左手握着她的手。音乐响起。我左脚向前迈了一步,踩到了乔治娅的脚趾。我们站住,等待合适的节拍,接着跳。方形步跳到一半时,我们犹豫不定,停了下来。

“抱紧她!”一位助手来到我们身边。她抓起我的手臂。

“这里!把你的手臂绕在她腰间!另一只手握着她的手!不要乱动。保持好姿势!你得带着她跳!”

安妮·莫莉再次哀泣。我们成功跳完了整个方形步,没再撞到或踩着对方。和那些指导老师比起来,我们就像两个初次跳舞的小孩子。虽然动作笨拙,但我们学到了东西。

几周后,奇迹出现了。安妮·莫莉依然在乞求跳最后一支舞,但乔治娅和我已经开始能够流畅地在舞池中起舞。我们不再笨拙。我们是舞伴,是一个整体。

“对!很棒!”吉米叫道,微笑着。

“看看他们,同学们,他们学会了。”他拍手称好,不小心让假发滑到了左侧。“我跟你们说过的嘛,很容易,”他笑道。

这次学跳舞花了很多时间,经过无数的练习,但最终我们做到了。我们成了一个团队。我们会预想对方的舞步,并能理解对方的信号,无论这个信号多么细微。以前觉得很难的事情现在变得自然而然了。

我们学会跳舞后,开始审视我们之间的关系。我们一起做饭时会口角;管教孩子们时会触怒对方。很多时候我想向右,她却向左:比如什么时候给草坪割草,花多少钱买车,去哪儿度假,以及夫妻疲于应付的其他一切事情。

我们把跳舞课上所学应用到了生活中:一旦我们学会了步子,就能在生活中翩翩起舞。
I held Georgia close. We swayed to the music and slowly turned. Next to us, a couple twirled and spun in elegant circles. Their feet and bodies moved in harmony with the music, as they floated over the dance floor

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful to dance like that?” Georgia asked me.

“It sure would.” I replied into her ear.

A few weeks later, my daughter, Vanessa, announced plans to attend her boyfriend’s prom. Georgia decided to give them dance lessons as a Christmas gift. She found a dance studio and called them. “Are you sure you and your husband don’t want to take lessons with them?” the gentleman asked. “There’s a discount for a second couple.”

“Well... ” my wife hesitated. “Why not?”

We stood with ten other couples in the centre of the floor at Jimmy’s Dance Studio. I listened to the conversations. “I’ve always wanted to do this.” One woman said.

“I hope I don’t step on someone’s feet.” A man of about fifty said to his greying wife.

A dapper gentleman of about sixty stepped into the room and faced us. He was five foot two inch —if that. “I’m Jimmy. You’re here to learn to dance and you will. I promise you, by the time you finish your first six weeks, you’ll make your friends jealous.” He said.

His toupee, obviously fitted many years ago, was slightly off centre and barely covered his spreading baldness. We started with the basic box step , a simple waltz for those who know how to dance. We practiced the steps facing each other but standing several feet apart. The men stepped forward with their left foot; the women stepped back with their right. Our steps were mirror images of each other.

“One! Two! Three!” Jimmy shouted.

It seemed easy.

“OK!” Jimmy said.

“Watch how it’s done.” He took one of his assistants in his arms. An Anne Murray song began to play. “Save The Last Dance for Me” she sang. Jimmy and his partner drifted elegantly around the room.

“We’re going to start the music again. Take your partner in your arms. Now let’s give it a try.”

Jimmy smiled at us. “It’s easy. You’ll see.”

Anne Murray sang again. The song would haunt us for months. I held Georgia in my arms. My right hand held her waist, the left held her hand. The music began. I moved my left foot forward and stepped on Georgia’s toe. We stood, waited for the beat, and tried again. Half way through the box, we faltered.

“Hold her firm!” One of the assistants came to our side. She grabbed my arm.

“Here! Put your arm around her waist! Hold her hand with the other! Don’t move it. Keep it firm! You have to guide her!”

Anne Murray wailed again. We got through the full box without stumbling or stepping on each other. Compared to the instructors, we looked like two kids dancing for the first time. We were awkward, but we learned.

Several weeks later, something happened. While Anne Murray begged for the last dance, Georgia and I began to flow across the floor. Our awkwardness was gone. We were partners. We were one.

“Yes! Yes!” The Jimmy yelled and smiled.

“Look at them, class. They got it.” He clapped his hands, which caused his toupee to slide to the left. “I told you it was easy.” He smiled.

It took a lot of practice and time, but we did it. We became a team. We anticipated each other’s moves and interpreted the slightest signal from the other. What seemed hard before became natural.

Once we learned how to dance, we looked at our relationship. We stumbled at cooking together. We stepped on each other’s toes when disciplining our children. I wanted to go right, she went left: when to mow the lawn, how much to spend on a car, where our vacations should be spent, and all things couples struggle with.

We applied what we learned in class. Once we got the steps down, we danced through life
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2011-10-11 13:32 编辑:kuaileyingyu
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