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******************************************************************************* I don't really now how I fell in love with Salsa. I think I might have always loved it somehow, and then once discovering this piece of me, wrapped it gingerly like a gift and called it my own. However, I remember the place. It was a Salsa party, but I didn't know it yet. Lilliana Solano was the name of my best friend in high school. I didn't know that she was heiress to a secret that would transform me. On came the music that fateful evening. In the background was a video sporting curvy woman in midrift whose sexy movements were miles away from my grasp but firmly impressed upon my mind. At the bar was Mrs. Solano looking divine as always; the Princess of poise, as unreachable as the smiling women on TV. I fancied myself a dancer by this point, affirmed by young pubescent glances of approval of my night club efforts. But when I saw the way the room was lit aglow, and the family flew like birds into V formation upon the makeshift dance floor, I suddenly felt at home. When I studied the eyes as much as the hips, and felt for certain the beat of the drum tapping at the core of me, I knew that I had found a marriage of rhythm and grace, and happiness beyond. And so I struggled for years to reach that impression at the heart of me. On to Colombia and now to Japan, I light up in, fly with, and come home to, Salsa. |
