I Think of Lavender

The last time I was in my dance studio, a mere week ago, the room was a lovely lavender. It's been this color for a long time. How long? How should I know? You'll have to trust me on this. Years and years of lavender. I'm used to seeing myself bathed in lavender while I master my quadruple pirouettes and flash my jazzy jazz hands. When I think of dance, I think of lavender. And yet... last night, I thought I was in the wrong studio. I was discombobulated, and then some. Where lavender once bloomed was now a wall of white and dark gray. Make that three walls of white and dark gray. Was I back in school? Or prison? Then I turned around... something I shouldn't have done. I wasn't ready. I hadn't fully processed this institutional palette change. But I turned around, anyway, and got a pop of color that shocked me to the depths of my being. You're right. I probably should've medicated myself first. What's that? Doubled my normal dose? Fair enough. The wall with the mirror was coral.

It was a WTF of the highest order. It was a "Coral Is The New Lavender" moment. I felt transported to Hawaii. I was snorkeling again. (The SJG snorkeling? Hey, it happened once.) It was beachy and serene. I could almost hear the waves. I started looking for my cabana boy. I needed an emergency tropical drink. On top of which, I look so good in coral. I just bought a dress in coral. I paint my toes coral. And my lips and my... oh, you get the picture. I'm all about the coral. Not necessarily an entire wall of it. But still. Of course, I wasn't the only one thrown by the shifting of the colors. Every dancer who stepped in the studio fell down the rabbit hole. It was fun to watch.

Some came back in time to start class. Others are still down there having a tea party with the Mad Hatter. I think I'll miss them the most.