#NR----" One night when i was fifteen, lost in some paintful, adolescent mood, my father put on a stack of records and teased me to dance with him. C'mon, "he said, " let's get those blues on the run." I turned away from him and hugged my pain closer than before. My father put his hand on my shoulder and i jumped out of the chair, screaming, " Don't touch me!, Don't touch me! Iam sick and tired of dancing with you!" The hurt on his face did not escape me, but the words were out, and I could not call them back. I ran to my room sobbing hysterically.
We did not dance together after that night. I found other partners, and my father waited up for me after dances, sitting in his favorite chair, clad in his flannel pajamas. Sometimes he would be asleep when I came in, and I would wake him, saying," If you were so tired, you should have gone to bed."
"No, no,"he'd say. " I was waiting for you"
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~ A second Chicken soup for the woman's soul~
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