Today I have been reflecting on my brother’s life, trying to think of times that stand out for me.
One of those moments is when I saw Richard, as an adult, dancing at a family wedding.
He wasn’t doing a perfunctory and plodding waltz. His feet were going all over the floor – not just in time to the music, but with the confidence that made his whole body sway to the rhythm of the music.
“Wherever did you learn to dance like that?”, I queried.
He was modest. “Oh, I am married now and everyone else in the family likes to dance. I have gone along with them and learned to do some ethnic dancing. I am not that good at it.”
To me, he wasn’t just dancing ... he was D-A-N-C-I-N-G.
I should have had the good sense to put my name on his dance card that night.
Arta
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