I am dancing with my father at my parents' 50th-wedding--anniversary celebration. The band is playing an old-fashioned waltz as we move gracefully across the floor. His hand on my waist is as guiding as it always was and he hums the tune to himself in a steady, youthful way. Around and around we go,laughing and nodding to the other dancers.
We are the best dancers on the floor, they tell us. Hy father squeezes my hand and smiles at me. All the years that I refused to dance with him melt away now. And those early times come back.
I remember when I was almost three and my father came home from work,swooped me into his arms and began to dance me around the table. My mother laughed at us, told us dinner would get cold. But my father said,"She's just caught the rhythm of the dance!Our dinner can wait.”Then he sang out, "Roll out the barrel, let' s have a barrel of fun,”and I sang back,   "Let' s get those blues on the run.”
We danced through the years. One night when I was 15, lost in some painful,adolescent mood.My father put on a stack of records and teased me to dance with him. "C' mon,"he said, "let' s got those blues on the run.”
When I turned away from him, my father put his hand on my shoulder, and I jumped out of the chair screaming, "Don' t touch me!l am sick and tired of dancing with you!’,I saw hurt on his face, but 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. 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 just waiting for you."
Then we'd lock up the house and go to bed.
As my parents' 50th anniversary approached, my brothers and 1 met to plan the party. My older brother said, "Do you remember that night you wouldn' t dance with him? Boy, was he mad? I couldn' t believe he' d get so mad about a thing like that. 1' 11 bet you haven' t danced with him since.”
I did not tell him he was right.
My younger brother promised to get the band. "Make sure they can play waltzes and polkas.”I told him.
I did not tell him that all I wanted to do was dance once more with my father.
When the band began to play after dinner, my parents took the floor. They glided around the room, inviting the others to join them. The guests rose to their feet, applauding the golden couple. My father danced with his granddaughters,then the band began to play the "Beer Barrel Polka."
"Roll out the barrel.”I heard my father singing. Then I knew it was time.I wound my way through a few couples and tapped my daughter on the shoulder.
"Excuse me,”I said,looking directly into my father's eyes and almost choking on my words, "but I believe this is my dance.”
My father stood rooted to the spot. Our eyes met and traveled back to that night when I was 15. In a trembling voice, I sang, "Let' s get those blues on the run."
My father bowed and said,"Oh, yes. I' ve been waiting for you."
Then he started to laugh,and we moved into each other's arms.
   在父母50周年结婚纪念庆典上,伴着古老的华尔兹旋律,我与父亲在舞池中优雅地翩翩起舞。他从容地哼着轻快的乐曲,依旧把手放在我的腰际,引领着舞步.我们旋转着四处滑动,不停地笑着对其他舞者点头致意。
   这是大家公认的:我和父亲是舞场中跳得最好的一对。父亲紧抓着我的手,冲我微笑。多年来,我拒绝和他跳舞,直到现在,这种W膜才消失殆尽,最初的美好时光重新回来了。
   记得在我大约3岁时,父亲下班回家总会猛地把我抱进怀里,然后开始围着餐桌跳舞。妈妈就会笑着说:“晚饭都要凉了。”可父亲说:“她刚刚跟上节奏,过一会儿吃。”然后便唱起来:“把桶滚出来,让找们拥有一个快乐的桶。”我也会唱着:“让我们滚走忧伤。”微信号:jzbedu 新浪微博:金嘴巴英语
   很多年过去了,我们就这样跳着,直到15岁的一个晚上。**,我沉浸在青春期莫名的悲伤中,父亲拿出一拟唱片,挪愉着让我跟他跳舞。“来吧,”他说,“让我们滚走忧伤。
   我转过身去,父亲将乎放到我的肩上,我腾地从椅子上跳起来,朝他尖叫道:“不准碰我,我不想和你跳舞!”我看见他的脸上流露出受伤的神情,但话已出口,无法收回。我跑回卧室,大哭起来。
   从那以后,我们再也没一起跳过舞。我有了其他的舞伴,而父亲总是坐在他最喜欢的椅子上等我跳完回来。有时候,我回来时他已经睡着了,我叫醒他说:“你要是太累,就应该**去睡。”
   “不,不累,”他总说,“我只是在等你。”
   然后,我们便各自关上房门,**睡觉了。
   父母50周年结婚纪念日即将来临,我和兄弟们商量宴会事宜。哥哥说:“你还记得**拒绝和他跳舞吗?爸爸真疯狂,真不敢相信他这么迷恋跳舞。我打赌,从那以后你再没和他跳过舞。”
   他说对了,但我没搭腔。
   弟弟说他去找乐队,我对他说:“一定要找能演奏华尔兹和波尔卡的乐队。”
   我没告诉他,自己这样做只是希望能与父亲再跳一次舞。
   晚饭后,乐队开始演奏,父母进入舞池,并邀请其他客人加入。他们在房间四周慢慢滑动舞步,大家都站了起来,为金婚夫妻鼓掌祝贺。在父亲与孙女们跳舞时,乐队开始演奏起了《啤酒桶波尔卡》。
   “把桶滚出来,”我听到父亲在唱歌,是时候了,我绕过几对夫妇,轻轻拍了拍女儿的肩膀。
   “对不起。”我直视父亲的眼睛,几乎说不出话来,“我想该轮到我了.”
   父亲一动不动地站在那里。我们对视着,似乎又回到了我15岁的那个夜晚,我的声音颤抖着,唱道:“让我们滚走忧伤。”
   父亲弯下腰来,说道:“噢,是的,我一直在等你.”
   然后,他开始笑起来,我们拥抱在一起。