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The Wedding Dance
The hand that clasps mine is not that of the child I can still remember，but that of the man he has become．From that hand to his face to the smile he beams at me，he is his father in days gone by．We move gracefully across the floor as his young bride looks on．My new daughter．Oh，how the years have passed．It seems I didn't even notice．One day，I held a squalling infant in my exhausted arms and counted tiny pink fingers and toes．The next，I'm no longer the most important woman in his life．
An effortless spin1) and he's taking me across the floor with a flare2) like his father's．I wonder if he's looking down on us at this moment as my son' s eyes sparkle3) with his mischief4)．Suddenly，I'm bent back－ward and laughing like a girl half my age，my young rogue leaning over me and guests applauding．He kisses my cheek and spins me upright a gain．The regretful tears of the past threaten my eyes．
No，they are not regretful tears．I have no regrets where this boy－－this man－－is concerned．He has been，and always will be，my pure joy．Time cannot wipe away the sadness and heartache，but there was never regret．Heartache comes with having children as it does with being alive．If my son is all he wants to be，I have no regrets．
As the music slows，his mood seems to waver．Knowing that if I see any of what I'm feeling in his eyes I will surely cry，I move into his arms and rest my head on his strong shoulder．A hush has descended on the entire room；not even the babies are fussing．The gentle piano guides us around the floor，passed faces that have always been near，and new ones destined for the same．Their smiles bring one to my face as I realize this is not a day for tears．The hand against my back gives me a squeeze．It is a most subtle5) gesture to let me know my new daughter's turn to care for him has come．
It is not a day for tears，but they threaten nonetheless6)．I sigh and touch his smooth cheek，seeing the face of a baby，child，teen，and man．Is this day so difficult for all mothers？I can't help wondering．As the music switches with ease to the one he chose to dance to with his bride，I turn and find her shy face with my other hand．I can't speak to either，but I know that my heart is in my eyes as each receives my kiss．
Walking to the edge of the floor，I suddenly realize I do have one regret today．I regret that my husband is not here to hold my hand．
by Melissa K．Beynon
