It was an unexpected event. The original plan was to have a quick lunch with Jonathan who is leaving for India tomorrow. But sometimes, plans do not work out well. Jonathan is always a cheerful person. We have so much in common to talk about, even though he is 35 years older than me. My four years at Duke would be a different experience without his presence as a mentor and father figure. I know I should not have told him the horrible truth, but oh well, what is a better way to wrap up Duke?

That is why my plan to go home right after lunch with Jonathan did not work out. Liz had to go to a dance event and she was running late. So instead of driving me home, she drove me to the mental hospital-ish place (I need to find out where I danced today, seriously!). The room was full of people, with various age, race, and gender. I noticed their dance moves rather to be forced and rigid, and wondered why they were dancing like that. From observation, I realized that I was dancing with a group of mentally ill patients who are enjoying the simple modern dance moves accompanied by a handsome guitar player.

One lady came over to me and held my hand and pulled me out of the audience. She wanted to dance with me. I felt very much appreciated, so I danced along with her. Another lady came over and grabbed my hand, she wanted to dance with me as well. I look across the room, I would honestly admit that no professional dancer would call what we were doing “dance”, but the smiles and the energy that everyone puts in, makes the experience unique.

So it is perfectly OK to be dancing with ourselves.