The Salsa Class at the Rec Center

A flyer on the rec center bulletin board showed a man in a sparkly shirt mid-spin, under the words BEGINNER SALSA, TUESDAYS. I wanted to be that man, so I wrote my name on the sign-up sheet.

The instructor, Carmen, is sixty-eight and moves like water. She pairs everyone up with strangers and rotates partners every song. I've danced with a nurse, a firefighter, a college student who stepped on my feet with real commitment, and a grandmother who spun me like a top.

I am not good. I count out loud. I go left when everyone goes right. But every Tuesday night for an hour, I am laughing and sweating and holding hands with strangers in a gym that smells like rubber floors.

Last week, Carmen told me I had "nice hips." It's the best compliment of my adult life. I've ordered a sparkly shirt.