Not so long ago I explained my belief in astrology. It is very simple. If I like my horoscope than I believe wholeheartedly in it and if I don’t I write it off as being nothing more than superstitious bunk. I do the same thing for most of the new agey stuff.
Don’t tell me that if I ask the universe to give me a gift it will come true. Because if that was true than back in high school good old Ann Stacey would have been really attentive to my needs. But I digress.
This afternoon I saw something that might have made me question my beliefs a bit. This afternoon I watched two 95 year-olds dance themselves back in time. And then I saw them kiss in a way that made me remember that Sarah was older than my grandmother when she gave birth to Isaac.
Great googly moogly, grandma and grandpa kissed each other like they really meant it. If nothing else they managed to make my son ask why grown ups like to kiss so much.
I told him not to worry about it and to watch them dance because he might not get to see it again to which he replied, “are they going to die?” I rolled my eyes in mock exasperation and said yes. For a moment he stared at me and they I told him that I didn’t expect it to happen today.
But the truth is that this might have been the last dance and that makes me a bit sad. My grandparents are one of the constants of my entire life. For forty years they have always been a part of it. I have seen them dance at untold numbers of family parties, weddings, bar and bat mitzvahs etc. They always spent time together out on the dance floor. It occurred to me that I am not sure when I last saw them dance.
I hadn’t realized until that moment that dancing is one of the images I have of them. But when I think about it is easy to envision them gliding around the floor. Confession time. I remember being about 15 and thinking that if I could dance as well as my grandfather it would make it a lot easier to find a girlfriend.
For a brief time I tried practicing in front of the mirrored closet doors in my parent’s bedroom, but that didn’t last long. As a 15 year old boy dancing wasn’t something that I was real comfortable with. I didn’t want to talk about it and wasn’t about to ask for lessons. Maybe I should of have.
Anyhoo, it was all part of an anniversary party that we threw to celebrate their 75th year of marriage. The best part of it was seeing how much fun they had. Later on we went back to my parent’s house for dinner.
I got a kick out of watching them sit on the couch holding hands. It was very sweet and I couldn’t help but wonder what they were like 75 years ago. They got married twice. The first time was a secret wedding at the court house. So for a year they lived at home and pretended to be dating.
I’ll share more about them in part two of this story.