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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2325719-Remembering-the-Dance
Rated: E · Short Story · Romance/Love · #2325719
Entry into The Writer's Cramp
“He held me so close. I know I should have been scandalized, but he was so handsome in his uniform and the song was a slow one by Glenn Miller.”
“Uniform?”
“Oh yes. He was a corporal in the Army. He’d just returned from the war and the local ladies auxiliary held a huge parade and party welcoming the soldiers home. He said he’d seem me from across the room and just had to dance with me.”
“Did you play hard to get?”
Giggles bubbled from her aged body and her blue eyes sparkling mischievously even as she didn’t reply.
“Mom!”
“Well, it had been a long time since any of the eligible boys my age had been around. He asked me to dance, so I did.”
“Just one dance?” Ellen asked her mother slyly.
“Now why would we only dance once? There was something in the way his dark eyes glittered and dared me. But when the band slowed down and started playing Glenn Miller, he pulled me into his arms and I knew.”
“Knew?”
“Oh yes. I knew he was the boy for me. We were married the following June. Every year on our anniversary, we danced to the same Glenn Miller song.”
“That’s beautiful, Mom.”

Ellen looked up from the black and white photo in her hands when she felt the weight of a gentle hand settle on her shoulder. Tears swam in her eyes, threatening to spill with each blink as she gazed at Debra, whose face was full of sorrow and concern. Ellen tilted her head back, blinking furiously as she worked to compose herself.
“She’s been gone for three years, Ell, what is it?” Debra asked softly as she sat on the sofa next to Ellen.
“Today would have been their seventy-eighth anniversary. I miss her so much.”
“Your mom was so beautiful,” Debra smiled, her eyes fixed on the photo, bringing Ellen’s eyes back to it.
“She was.”
“But didn’t you tell me she didn’t remember you for…”
Ellen winced, her heart clenching painfully as Debra left her sentence unfinished.
“Yeah. That’s what I was just thinking about.”
“What?”
“She told me the same damn story about meeting my dad every single day, but she couldn’t remember me or her grandsons. It was so hard to visit her every day knowing I was going to hear it. But you want to know something?”
“What’s that?”
“I’d give anything to hear her tell me that story now.”


Word Count: 413 words
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