“Are you going to Dance with me?” I asked.

“Probably not. I don’t dance.”

I expected that answer. That is something you have said for as long as I can remember.

“I don’t believe you.” I say back. It’s the truth. I genuinely don’t believe you. Everyone who is physically capable of dancing, dances. At least sometimes, even if you aren’t good at it.

We had the same conversation for weeks. Leading up to your mother’s wedding, I had hoped that your answer would change, but it never did. Even the day of, you simply shrugged, apologized, and said the same thing that you always did.

The ceremony was beautiful. It went by faster than I expected, and soon it was time for the reception. Your mother and stepfather shared their first married dance, and then it was time for the mother-son dance. As your brother danced with your mom, I couldn’t stop grinning, thinking of what came next. You had to dance. He finishes his turn, and soon it is yours.

Your mom’s smile lights up the room as she dances with you, her youngest, her baby. She whispers to you and you both smile widely, sharing a moment. I smile widely too, with tears in my eyes. Good tears. Tears because you look genuinely happy, and your mother looks genuinely happy, and that is how you deserve to look. I wished you could look like that every day. I hoped that I could make you look like that someday.

After the dance with your mom, I was sure you were done dancing for the night. I was okay with us not dancing, seeing you dance with your mom on her wedding day was well worth us not getting to dance. We ate, talked, walked around and took pictures as the night went on, and I was having a really good time. Eventually, your brother requested that his wedding song be played, and asked us if we would go up and dance with him.

His wedding song was ‘Wanted’ by Hunter Hayes. I don’t really listen to country music, but I knew this song well. In fact, I loved that song. The problem was, it made me cry. Flashbacks to me sitting alone at a high school dance crying arose, and for a second I was nervous, but recovered quickly when I realized you were going to say no.

Except, you didn’t say no.

You said yes… And we danced.

As the song played, as you held me in your arms, I felt the tears coming once again. They weren’t sad tears like in high school, though. They were happy tears. VERY happy tears. I looked up at you with glistening eyes. You look down at me, kissing my forehead. I catch a glimpse of your mother, who was recording us dancing. She was smiling wide and looking so proud, the same way she looked when you were dancing with her earlier. You mutter something about you having no rhythm, and suddenly, instead of crying, I’m giggling.

I’m giggling so hard, and I can’t stop. You giggle at me for giggling so much, before placing your forehead on mine. And then you smile big, really big, like when you were dancing with your mother.

You’re smiling, you’re smiling because of me, you are smiling and I am in your arms and in that moment, nothing else matters. Not me being sick, not everyone watching us, nothing. You are smiling, so I am smiling too.

I will never forget our first dance. Even if we dance hundreds of times, or even if we never dance again. I will never forget your smile, your laugh, or the words you whispered. I will always remember that moment. I will always love that moment, and it will always be one of my fondest memories. Because I can’t dance, and you don’t dance… and we danced.