Dancing in February

by kaylyn emory

His back turned, All you can see Is his favorite red shirt And the backs Of his knobby knees. But I can still see his big belly, And the mischievous grin on My grandfather’s face, His bald head reflecting the light, As we move back and forth to the music That he managed to coax out Of the old speakers minutes before.

A wintry February weekend The last bit of snow falling From the dark sky outside, Turning the ski slopes A perfect shade of white. Smells of hot chocolate and coffee Waft in from the kitchen, Mingling with wood smoke, As we dance inside the warm house, Enjoying the cold weather Before it warms up in March. We didn’t think much Of the difference between one month And the next back then.

My aunt sits perched on the edge Of the blue checkered couch Smiling broadly at my grandfather As he makes up nonsensical lyrics To the song,

“Oh my dog got caught in a red shoe, And sailed to an ol’ blue...” As he was prone to do On long car rides, Or when he wanted us to smile “So ol’ red dog went down the drain...”

My Nana sits in the chair, Watching us with a faint smile, Her head resting on her hand, The one with the ring That I’ve always loved. She next to dance, I’ll sit and watch them, Scents of his cologne, A little cigar smoke still clings To my pajamas.

I will never forget later that night When the twinkle returned to his eye Giggling, as he asked me If I wanted to hear his poem. “I shot an arrow into the air It fell to earth, I know not where.” I lose more damn arrows that way. His raucous laughter At his own joke, Filled the whole room.

Last year, I heard his laughter in October. Life was so quiet in November.