In 2009, after 23 years of marriage, my husband and I split up, my mother died and I went into a deep hole. It was a time of intense grief and I just had to work my way out of it, slowly. And then, in the summer of 2010, I was invited to dance in a flash mob in Washington Square Park.

Dancing can be equated to life: One has to learn to overcome difficulties, and how we go about it will naturally change from person to person. I discovered that kindness is beneficial and patience is an unsung virtue.

When I turned 50, I decided that I was going to give myself the gift of dancing. Of course, having grown up in Italy and seen every last cowboy movie,...

I had forgotten how touchy-feely we are in my country. And I loved what I saw. No fear of contact, no coyness. Their way of demonstrating camaraderie, love and friendship was openly physical.

Out of the blue, a good-looking man stood in front of me and invited me to dance. Tall, dark, sleeked back hair, handsomely dressed in a double-breasted suit, he extended his hand.

No fairy godmother endowed me at birth with limber limbs. What happened to her magic wand? Why didn't it quiver for me? My legs are a solid block of concrete when it comes to flexibility.

I just realized why I love Jane Austen so much and always did. It's not just that I grew up with her, reading every single of her books (alas, in Italian); it's because her novels are pure tangos!