"The Story" of My Tiny Dancer

Have you ever had the feeling that you were witnessing something rather extraordinary? It happened to me tonight, and I'm not sure I can even fully explain it. . . but here goes.

Every once in a while, after dinner, the whole family ends up in our bedroom listening to music on my iPod (through my iHome dock) and dancing. Tonight was one of those nights. After a while, Daddy and Presley retired to the bonus room while Reagan and I stayed behind. A song came on that I don't even remember downloading (it must have been free): Brandi Carlisle's "The Story." The song is a balad, but it alternates between a mellow feel and a driving rock beat. Here's a sample of the lyrics:

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true, I was made for you

Reagan began doing what can only be described as an interpretive dance to the song. Her movements during the mellow parts were slow and fluid, and her facial expressions were amazing--as if she were feeling every note, every word of the song. And when the driving beat started up, her movements were almost explosive. At four years old, she displayed as much angst as a twenty-something philosophy student.

Now, I'm not saying that this was a beautiful, elaborate dance. No, her movements were those of a kid with a few dance lessons under her belt. But her expression was beyond description. She was absolutely fearless in emoting!

My words, I know, are insufficient to give the full picture. I guess you had to be there. I'm so glad I was.