the dance

The music blared.
Like usual. Today it was Christmas music.
An older black man danced near the speaker.
Freely. Like no one was watching. Even though dozens were staring at him like he was crazy.
Most likely because he was actually crazy.
But he just kept smiling and dancing like he was at some party instead of in a park.
A homeless park.
In the cold.

A slower song came on and he acted like he was dancing with a partner. Even though it was still just him.
I watched from the side. Along with the rest of the others.
My friend, said, “if I was braver, I’d go dance with him.”
I’d already had a similar thought I just hadn’t voiced it.
A few seconds later, another volunteer walked up and said the same thing.

 We come here. Once a month or so.
To pass out food and more importantly conversation.
But on Saturday, I did more than hand out food.
I broke bread.
I passed out communion.
I wiped a sweet toddlers runny nose.
I picked up some trash.
I ate with a man named Allan. From Alabama. And I listened to his story.
Not caring how much was true and how much wasn’t.
I mingled and smiled and hugged.
But most importantly,
I danced.

(and I'm having a hard time embedding you tube these days...but click here for one of my favorite christmas ... or just about anytime songs....