The Dance

A few minutes after we were seated at Boma, I was placing drink orders for my crew that was rushing the buffet line, and I noticed a family being seated behind us.  I saw the dad first, pushing a travel wheelchair with a boy about nine.  He didn't have full head control and wore those all telling braces on his feet.  The boy was transferred to a regular chair situated between Dad and Grandpa.  Mom, Sister, and Grandma filled the other side.  I couldn't help but stare a little and keep turning to observe what I knew was probably us in five years.  L was wide open and keeping her from clearing the table was pretty consuming, but I kept glancing back.  This time everyone at the table was in the buffet line except for the boy and Grandpa.  Grandpa's arm was draped protectively around Boy's shoulders and he was smiling and seemed to be sharing some fabulous secret.  Dad returned and began feeding Boy.  In a few moments, Grandma was beside Boy, patting his hand, casually wiping his mouth.  Few more crazy minutes at our own table and then I glanced back again.  There was an almost effortless,unspoken movement around the table.  Each adult taking a turn at comforting or feeding Boy, each adult having a chance to fill his or her own plate, each one taking time to look adoringly on Sister.  No one was stressed, smiles and soft laughter drifted over the food.  Another look from me and the song had played on.  Dad was helping sister get dessert.  Mom was helping Boy with a straw,  Grandpa headed for more food. It was like watching a beautiful Viennese waltz.  Oh that we could all strive to dance as beautifully as this young man and his many partners.