She was destined to love the movie. Even though it was released 28 years before her birth, loving it was in her genes. It was her infatuation with the lift, and the need for a diversion, which made me realize the moment had arrived to show it to her (at least parts).
Here’s how it started.
“Pick me up, pick me up, momma.” Those were my five year-old daughter’s words as she climbed to the top of the kitchen stool. Her arms were raised and she was ready to leap into my hands. We had practiced this dance move before. It goes like this: she leaps and then I, provided I have the arm strength, lift her in the air and spin her around.
Clearly, she is ecstatic when we do this, but I like the feeling too. I like the feeling that we’re connected in a single motion. I can pretend there is a musical accompaniment, or perhaps, even a spotlight.
We just finished our dinner prep with about 30 minutes before brother and dad returned from soccer practice. “Do it again,” she pleaded. But my arms were tired and I didn’t want to be trapped in the do-it-again cycle with no out.
“Do you want to see real lifts?” I asked. She accepted my offer. We ventured downstairs to dig up the unopened DVD dad gave me for Christmas. Off came the plastic wrap. Into the player went the pristine disc: Dirty Dancing.
Dirty Dancing in its entirety is no flick for a young girl, so naturally, I went straight to the end.
Now I …
We settled in on the couch, her body half on my lap. She took hold of my hand. Watching her, I constricted with anticipation.
And then it happened, the lift. Swayze and Grey, under the spotlight, suspended in time. Still clutching my palm, she moved our entangled hands against her mouth. She was hooked.
The next day she went to grandma and grandpa’s house and asked to watch the dirty movie. After putting two-and-two together–with one of the clues being her mother–they got it. They pulled the show up on Netflix.
…It’s the truth
I owe it all to you