Saturday morning the sun smashed through the grey clouds and slammed into the buildings, bright and blinding, every shade of yellow and gold and high wide blue refracted and magnified by the rain-slicked red brick buildings. The streets, wet with rain and melted snow, steamed in the sunlight. Clouds wisped high by the hills and the tall trees, and a fog belt hovered above the river bend to the north. Later in the day the smudging wall of grey came rolling over the rest of town, but in the morning the sun shone brilliant, reminding me of the possibility of spring and flowers.

I parked and walked three blocks to the dance studio, the sun on my face and the air crisp and cold. Five students would be attending, according to the roster I received, and I was nervous but also excited about all the possibilities. The dance studio is huge, and it's above a furniture store downtown. There are mirrors everywhere, and that smell of kung fu and ballet classes, dance shoes and sweat, dust and tinted windows, high ceilings and flourescent lights, the hum of the heater, and a giant poster of Bruce Lee watching our every move.

Ladies filtered in over the next half hour. One student has studied as long as I, but with a different instructor and after class I talked to her about whether she felt she could learn from me. She said she was excited about what she had learned, and would be sore in the morning, and that's a good thing.

I have four students who have taken some sort of dance class, mostly Middle Eastern dance, and they seemed to understand what I wanted them to do. This was something of a relief. It alleviates the challenge of all new, inexperienced students for me. It unfortunately also means they want to learn more before they're all ready to progress, but I think I'm better at holding the reins than applying the spurs.

There are two women who couldn't move their bodies to do what I was saying; one is extremely stiff and inflexible, the other looks like she could play ice hockey or kickbox. She wants to dance, my goodness she wants to dance. She was taking what I showed her and moving her body all around like a snake and I found myself saying, "Okay, we need to work on muscle isolation..." to no effect. She'll get it because she's a wiggle worm, and the other lady will get it once she learns how to move again. It's just a matter of time. Which is the thing I love about bellydance.

I love it like sunlight.