An Impromptu Dance at Dusk

An Impromptu Dance at Dusk

From Chicken Soup for Every Mom's Soul

An Impromptu Dance at Dusk

Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children.

Charles R. Swindoll

Engrossed at the computer, I was typing some very impassioned poetry written by my eighty-two-year-old neighbor, Rosemary. My six-year-old son, Jake, ran up to me. “Mom, let’s do something fun together. Now! C’mon!”

Deeply engrossed in the stories of Rosemary’s unfulfilled dreams and missed opportunities, I was ready to reply, “Jake, we’ll do something in a little bit. I want to work a little longer.” Instead, Rosemary’s words haunted me, carrying new meaning in my own life. I thought of her sad laments. The wisdom of her years spoke to me, and I decided the poems could wait. My son could not.

“What would you like to do?” I asked, thinking of the new library books we could read together.

“Let’s dance,” he replied.

“Dance?” I asked.

“Yes, just you and me . . . pleeeeez; I’ll be right back,” he said as he dashed out of the room. He returned a few moments later with his hair a bit wet and combed over to the side, a shy smile and his black, flowing Batman-turned-into-Prince-Jake cape over his shoulders. He pulled me off my chair and led me upstairs.

The blinds were up and the descending sun was casting shadows against the picturesque night sky. Jake led me to the middle of his braided wool rug and then turned on the radio. “There Mom. I found us some rock and roll.” He took my hand, and we danced, twisted, turned and twirled. We giggled and laughed and danced some more.

My side aching, I told him I needed a rest. Ever so seriously he responded, “Mom, let me put something romantic on now.” He found a beautiful slow song, bowed, and then took my hand as we began to slow dance together. His head was at my waist, but our feet kept rhythmic time.

“Mom,” he said a moment later as he looked up at me, “can you get down on your knees and dance with me so we can look at each other’s face while we dance?” I almost responded with why I wouldn’t be able to comply with his ridiculous request. Instead, captured by the moment, I laughed, dropped down on my knees, and my little man led me in a dance I will always cherish.

Jake looked deep into my eyes and claimed, “You’re my darling, Mom. I’ll always love you forever and ever.” I thought of the few short years I had left before an obvious list of my faults would replace Jake’s little-boy idolization. Of course, he would still love me—but his eyes would lose some of the innocence and reverence they now revealed.

“Mommy,” he said. “We’ll always be together. Even when one of us dies, we’ll always be together in our hearts.”

“Yes, we will, Jake. We’ll always be together no matter what,” I whispered as I wiped a silent tear.

Dusk quietly settled in as this Mom and her Little Prince danced together, ever so slowly, cheek to cheek . . . and heart to heart.

Marian Gormley

You are currently enjoying a preview of this book.

Sign up here to get a Chicken Soup for the Soul story emailed to you every day for free!

Please note: Our premium story access has been discontinued (see more info).

view counter

More stories from our partners