I have recently been looking at some of my romantic notions and their origins so that I could choose what to keep and what to let go as I move forward in my life. Contemplating my former addiction to Jane Austen novels and, of course, Mr Darcy, together with my unceasing search for the one, lead me back to my very early childhood and the many times I danced with my Father.
My Dad assures me he used to sing to me and dance with me as a baby and I recall feeling a great sorrow around age 9 when suddenly there was no longer the physical affection there had been prior to this time. When my Dad started to waltz with me as a teenager, this seemed to me a return to those times of warmth and affection. I enjoyed the feeling of being nestled in his arms, although I was advised quite often it’s the man who takes the lead.
