Dancin' in the headlights....

By the time I was twelve or so, I no longer believed boys to be quite as stupid as I had when I was ten. I went to my first girl/boy party when I was in 6th grade. Except for the Minuet (we had performed in 5th grade, ewww), I had not danced with a boy before, and that night I didn’t even have a clue that any boy would ask me to dance anyway! Well, wouldn’t you just know it? A boy did ask me to dance. No, no - not just any boy! He was, I believed, to be the cutest guy in the class!

I’ll never forget Danny P. When he asked me to dance, I just stood there; finally nodding "okay". Well, we danced - if you can call standing in front of each other, looking at the floor, one step forward, and two steps back, dancing! Kind of like the Minuet, only much slower, and without the wigs. We danced all night it seemed like, and by then, that still wasn‘t long enough in my opinion. I knew the party was to be over at like 9 o’clock. Not long before that time, someone turned the lights inside the garage off. I glanced around and could see that only a few other kids were in the garage swaying along with us. That was about all I could see. The next thing I knew, though, there were headlights coming up the driveway. At that moment, I didn’t think too much about it. I mean, who would want that magic to end? :)

After a couple of seconds, the headlights started flickering on and off, on and off. Finally, a kid said: “Someone’s parent is here.” Well, guess whose parent was there? You got it! It was my dad -- could he see me? Oh mercy me, when I realized the possibility he saw me, I wanted to be swallowed up whole by the earth. Immediately, sooner had it been possible. Danny P. was practically shoved (by me) clean across that garage. I found the birthday friend, thanked her for inviting me to the party, and made like a bee back to the hive. Chin down, embarrassed to the tips of my toes, I jerked open the car door, climbed in, sat, heavily. As we were driving away, Dad, in his quiet way asked: “Hey Sis - why are you sittin’ in the back seat?” Holy Moses, I was such a dunce!

My dad was so cool, though. He didn’t try to get me to talk that night, just let me ride home in the quiet of the night, staring out the back window at the stars, in my own little world. Dad didn’t tease me at all about it. Just let me be myself. I asked him years later if he remembered that incident, and he just smiled his certain smile that always spoke volumes. The smile that day said: “Yes, Sis, I remember the night you were dancin’ in the headlights.” For as long as my dad was here, he wondrously added warm, steady, calming colors to my canvas of life. I just cannot say enough good things about my dad. He was my rock.

Have a blessed evening!