The Return of the Living Room Dance Floor

Alexa, play "Some Days You Gotta Dance" by The Chicks

There’s a kind of joy that doesn’t ask for permission. It’s genuine, spontaneous, and almost childlike. The kind that just shows up when the music starts. Ours happened tucked away in the gorgeous mountains of Sonoma Valley, sometime between dinner and bedtime.

Mind you, our suitcases had barely touched the perfect hardwood floors of the beautiful, enchanting (albeit too nice for us) Airbnb before What’s Up by 4 Non Blondes started blaring through the kitchen. It was like moths to a flame. Shoes flew off, someone had a Rockhill Chardonnay microphone, and within seconds we had a makeshift dance floor. It felt like we were kids again putting on one of our world-renowned living-room performances.

The Year was 2006

Suddenly, it was like my sisters, cousin, and I were in grade school all over again, except now two of us are 6’3’+ and all of us (but one) are significantly worse singers. We thought we were the Cheetah Girls on steroids.

The number of living-room concerts, choreographed routines, and synchronized swimming routines to whatever Miley Cyrus song was popular that our mothers and grandmother endured is honestly diabolical. We were in heaven – pure, shameless joy. Social anxiety fears us.

Being back together in wine country felt like the Spice Girls got back together and decided to go on their own Eras Tours. We laughed until our faces hurt, and only one of us walked away with a sports injury. Me. A pulled inner thigh after a successful 2024 Olympic-style break dance turn standing heel stretch. I’ve never done one in my life, and I’m the least flexible person you’ll ever meet.

Even with my new limp, I couldn’t stop dancing. It was a joy we didn’t even realize we’d been missing. After the first dance party, it hit me: Where did this spontaneous joy go and why did it ever stop?

Reality Check

Sometime between high school, being bratty teenagers, sports, college, bills, and the never-ending mission to “get it together,” we stop dancing just to dance.

We get ourselves in a routine of the “have tos.” We exchanged play for productivity. We all built incredible lives chasing goals, caring for others, and it seems like we’d rewired ourselves to think that joy has to be scheduled or earned after a productive day.

I call bullshit.

Here’s What I Learned (Besides Stretching First)

These dance moves you ask? Not planned, or aesthetic, or even that cute, but they were real. Take a look for yourself:

You know the vibes.

Joy never truly leaves us. Like love, it’s unconditional. It waits patiently for you to call on it even if you’ve tucked it away for a while. It’s not mad at you, it just wants a seat back at your table! Joy is simple, accessible, and it’s worth practicing.

Where You Find It

Maybe your “dance party” is different. It’s a sip of coffee or calling someone who makes you laugh or dusting off an old hobby you put down and want to pick back up (hi, me).

Whatever it is just do it.

“NO RAGRETS.”

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