Dancing in the Minefields

One of the things I love about attending weddings is getting to watch the older couples dance - you know, the couples with wrinkled faces and gnarled hands who have weathered decades together as husband and wife, who may be a little stooped or whose once-smooth moves may be reduced to a shuffle, but who nevertheless move as one and portray in their shared gaze a depth of comfort and understanding that inspires awe and makes you yearn for the same. Couples who have danced in the minefields and sailed through the storms. They're someone's grandparents, or great aunt and uncle, or neighbors. They're my heroes.

Of course, dancing couples needn't be geriatric to garner my attention and respect, and weddings aren't the only place to witness dancing. Case in point: while wandering around Granada during our trip to Spain in June, we came upon a plaza with a stage, a band, and a collection of couples dancing to the music in the heat of the day. To us it was unexpected, unexplained, and magical. We joined the crowd gathered around the perimeter and watched, with grins on our faces and the promise of a lifetime in our clasped hands.