Mine was hot pink and white. There was something about that hoop that made me smile. It seemed as though my happiness and dancing kept it wrapped around my waist. Feeling so accomplished with my hoop, I was able to keep that ring moving around me while doing other things. I could move around the house, read a book, or talk on the phone. My hula hoop spent most of its time leaning against the wall of the garage, but when it was moved, I moved. Keeping up the dance was the only way to keep it working. 

My dance has continued, yet my hoop is no longer hot pink and white. It is made up of the arms of a seven year old boy. From out of nowhere, he appears. Instantly his arms lock around me, creating a ring. He doesn't let go, no matter what. The key for me is to continue dancing. I can wrap one hand on his, and we can move about the house.

It's joy that has attracted him to me, and keeps his arms wrapped around my waist. If the dancing were to stop, the ring would fall. May I always keep a rhythm of joy that draws my children around me.