This short story is from <Heartwarming Collection of Short Stories for Seniors: 2 Books in 1> by Bradley Windrow. It is perfect for seniors, even for dementia patients. Be sure to read until the end, as there’s a special gift waiting for you! hope you enjoy it!
Dance like nobody’s watching, love like you’ve never been hurt, sing like nobody’s listening, and live like it’s heaven on earth. –Mark Twain
“I don’t care if it’s the Queen of England asking, Edna—I am not dancing.” Hank stood firm, arms crossed, glaring at Edna as she held up a pair of dance shoes. She had that stubborn look in her eye that said, I’m not leaving without a yes.
Edna had been dreaming about the senior dance for weeks. She envisioned herself gliding across the floor like she had in her youth—until she tried a few steps in her living room and promptly forgot every move she’d ever known. Desperate to avoid embarrassment at the community center, Edna needed a partner. Hank, her neighbor, was the unfortunate target of her desperation.
“Oh, come on, Hank!” Edna waved the shoes at him like a magic wand. “I don’t need Fred Astaire. I just need someone with feet!”
“I’ve got two left,” Hank grumbled, stepping back like the shoes were toxic.
“Perfect! Then you’re hired!” Edna declared, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward her house. “We’ll start with something easy. You just stand there and move when I say,” Hank found himself in Edna’s living room, reluctantly playing the role of dance partner.
“All right, simple box step. Step, together, step, together,” Edna coached, taking his hands. “How hard can it be?” Apparently, for Hank, it was extremely hard. Within minutes, he had stomped on Edna’s foot so many times that she yelled,
“That’s my foot, Hank! My foot!”
“I’m stepping where you told me to!” Hank barked back, clearly flustered.
“Not on my toes, you’re not!” Edna shot back, though she was laughing despite the pain. For the next hour, they shuffled around like two uncoordinated penguins. Hank nearly knocked over a lamp, Edna tripped over the rug, and at one point, they both tumbled onto the couch in a mess of arms and legs.
“This is hopeless,” Hank groaned, rubbing his head. “I dance like a malfunctioning robot.”
“Nonsense!” Edna said, patting his arm. “It’s not about perfection; it’s about having fun. And trust me, watching you trip over my feet is more fun than I’ve had in years.” Despite his scowl, a smile twitched at the corners of Hank’s mouth. As the senior dance approached, their rehearsals didn’t get much better. Hank stomped around like he was dodging landmines, and Edna kept forgetting the steps. Yet, on the dance night, they bravely stepped onto the floor.
“Well, here goes nothing,” Hank muttered as they started. The first few moves were a disaster—Hank nearly bowled over an old lady, and Edna got tangled in her feet. But then, the music changed to freestyle, and suddenly, their awkward shuffling didn’t seem so bad. They found their rhythm, moving together—not perfectly, but well enough to avoid total catastrophe. By the night’s end, they were spinning around the floor, laughing like kids. Hank, sweat dripping from his brow, grinned.
“Okay, maybe I didn’t hate this.”
“Told you,” Edna smirked. “Two left feet aren’t so bad if you know how to laugh.”
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