The Dance
I am not a great dancer. That doesn’t mean I don’t like to
dance, though. What it does mean is that my wife grimaces slightly when I ask
her to dance, and sometimes lies and says she doesn’t like the song. She thinks
I don’t know this, and I am gentleman enough not to accuse her outright of not
wanting to dance with me. Nevertheless, there are times when she has to give in
because etiquette demands it. Like weddings, for example. Our wedding in
particular.
We were married in 1994. That sounds like a long time ago
now, and I guess it is…twenty-two years, almost twenty-three. Lots of things
have changed in that time, not even counting how we look in the mirror. The
internet, for example. The rise of personal electronics. And music, although I
find it hard to notice the small nuances. I know what I like, and what I don’t.
First thing is that I have to hear the words. These days, I turn on the radio
in the car, and I can’t even tell what language they are singing in, the words
are so fast, or slurred, or overwhelmed by the music itself.
I guess that’s why I kind of like country music. It’s slow,
and I can hear the words. When we were dating, we went to my wife’s friend’s
wedding. It was an all-out country affair. My wife was a bridesmaid, and wore a
blue western-styled dress with cowboy boots. To prepare, we took two-step
lessons at a country-and-western themed bar a couple of nights a week for a few
months.
I wasn’t great, but I did get better. The instructor kept
saying to move to the beat, but what the hell did he mean by that? What exactly
is “the beat”? My wife rolls her eyes and strikes the table rhythmically,
apparently “in time” with the music. “Can you hear that?” Ummm, not really. I
take a sip of beer, one of the great advantages of learning to dance at a bar. Nevertheless,
I keep going, and over time I think I get what they are talking about. Not only
can I do the basic two-step, I can even twirl her and do a couple of other
pretty awesome moves.
Anyway, because of this, my wife went through what she now
calls her “unfortunate” country music phase. This means that the song at our
wedding, not too long afterwards, was a country tune. I liked it. I still like
it. It was the country-music wedding song of the year, John Michael Montgomery’s
“I Swear”. I can hear the words without any difficulty, and I can remember
them:
I see the questions in
your eyes, I know what’s weighing on your mind. But you can be sure I know my
part. Cause I’ll stand beside you through the years, you’ll only cry those
happy tears. And though I’ll make mistakes I’ll never break your heart. I
swear. By the moon and the stars in the sky, I’ll be there. I swear. Like the
shadow that’s by your side I’ll be there. For better for worse, till death do
us part I’ll love you with every beat of my heart, I swear.
We had a small wedding, just family and a few friends. Oh,
and two wedding crashers, two grad students who showed up for the reception. We
thought it was funny. And when it came time to dance, I showed them I could
two-step with the best of them. I took my wife in my arms, and despite her
enormous white dress, was able to twirl her in time to the music. I swear….
Fast-forward twenty-one years. We’ve done pretty well,
meaning we are still married. We are having some tough times though. My wife
was diagnosed with leukemia in the fall, and it was touch-and-go whether she
would make it. She ended up on life support, and when she was taken off (thank
goodness) she had what the doctors called critical illness weakness. It meant
none of her muscles would work. She could move her neck, a little. They seemed
to think she would get stronger over time, and even walk again, but right now
she was like a huge baby.
The next two months were agonizing. For her, certainly, but
also for me. I was at the hospital constantly, acting as her personal
nurse/physio/chief comforter. It was a huge relief when she began to be able to
move a bit. Small things, like holding a glass, were a major victory. So was
the day she could finally hold her own toothbrush and brush her own teeth.
Brushing someone else’s teeth is harder than you might think. Getting her to
stand and walk again was exhausting, physically for her, mentally for me. But
finally, after four months in hospital, she was given a day pass to go home.
I knew exactly what I wanted to do when she got there. I hadn’t foreseen that she would have
trouble getting up the stairs.
After all, she’d been practicing at the hospital. But there she hadn’t
been weighed down with boots and an overcoat. We took them off, but even then
it was almost impossible. Four steps! Four tiny little steps that I never, ever
once thought about as an obstacle. When we finally got her up the stairs, she
was crying with exhaustion. I was crying a bit, too.
We got her into the living room and onto a couch. She might
be bald, weak, and almost unable to sit up on her own, but she was my wife, and
she was home at last. I had spent some time that afternoon looking for
something, and had eventually found it in a box downstairs. I took that dusty
old CD and put it into our old player.
The music started to play. I could see the disbelief in her
eyes. I see the question in your eyes, I see what’s weighing on your mind…
I help her struggle to her feet, and I hold her as the music plays. She is so
hunched from months in hospital that her head is only in the middle of my
chest, even though I am not a tall man. We sway a little in time to the music. I swear, by the moon and the stars in the
sky, I’ll be there… This is not the most elegant of dances, but it is
beautiful and, for me, incredibly romantic. My wife is crying, weeping into my
chest with emotion. I am crying too, as we dance to our song. I meant it then,
and I mean it now.
I swear.
😀
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