Dancefloor communion

A sweet memory of my parents

Photo by Kadarius Seegars on Unsplash

They hopped up from the folding chairs and out onto the makeshift dance floor. She smiled as she took his hand. When she smiles, her eyes disappear into happy bows and her cheeks get even more full and round.

I can’t remember the song. I know it was Motown. I know it was upbeat. The song mattered like a frame matters to a work of art, cradling them obsequiously as they unfurled their hidden talent.

They moved in and out of the melody, dancing on the rhythm and backbeats like fingers weaving string. Daddy effortlessly lifted Mommy, and she let him and leaned in and up with grace. Their bodies mirrored each other as they turned in, turned out, twirled. I could see every tooth in Daddys’s mouth as he smiled at Mommy. They were so playful and skilled. There were 50 other people in the room. We all stood stock still and bore witness.