“Your hips inspire me,” I hear a voice from behind. I smiled and took the compliment graciously, but couldn’t take it to heart wholeheartedly after all it’s about perspective and from what I have seen and grown to know so far, there is not much hip swinging around town.The mindset is not keen on change and anything influenced by Afro-Cuban culture is jarring and shrilling to most. Now if that voice from behind me came from someone like Shakira or Ms. Jackson well then my eyelids may have batted more. “How do you do that?” the same voice asked the next week after the song ended. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders while my hips continued to move to the beats of the next song the Zumba instructor had selected. “If I could move like that I would lose ten pounds,” she continued. While I don’t cavort about for the sake of keeping my girlish figure, it’s a side effect to what I love to do and if it inspires the kind-worded woman next to me well then I feel even better about moving. If only I could feel some inspiration by someone…something around here. My mind keeps winding back to the good old days like this memorable day of creeping up an ascending path to a mountaintop skirted with lavender.I followed along as my little bears cantered along trails stirring up dust that settled on fawny limbs and some of our bare limbs.This little adventure, some ways from the billowy ocean, filled our lungs with an earthier scent and had us sputtering until we convened at the Tea House for biscuits and some lemonade—a tasty definition of the season.
Spring was in the air and this loamy soil that shaped such fanciful rows of lavender inspired us to prance, rejoice and savor. Fare thee well perfumed hills for now you are a faraway land, one that is whispered and dreamt.