One of my favorite memories of my 16 years with Mike happened during our wedding: our first dance.

Mike was one of the world’s worst dancers. So bad, that he embraced his dance floor awkwardness with complete zeal. He loved being a bad dancer. Mike had zero rhythm. But he liked making people smile by so thoroughly enjoying himself…

But I wanted OUR first dance to be something amazing. Something people would remember. So I signed us up for private dance lessons. Twice a week for almost six months we drove more than 30 minutes to a dance studio in one of the suburbs. It was quite a financial splurge for a couple just starting out.

I don’t remember our instructor’s name – I don’t remember much of anything about the instructor. But I remember the lessons.

The feeling of being in Mike’s arms. Of him twirling me around. Of spinning. Of our hands intertwined. Of looking in his eyes. Of fighting against him – each of us trying to lead… (I’m not a good follower, not even on the dance floor!)

It was time for us. Just us. Two hours a week, just me and Mike. It was lovely.

The instructor choreographed our entire first song. It was a combination of classic steps and a dance that was all our own. It was perfect.

The night of our wedding reception, the DJ called us to the floor and the song started. We reached for each others’ hands and… “Smile,” I whispered. “I love you.”

The dance was perfect. Shear perfection. I remember looking out into the crowd and seeing the faces of our loved ones. People were smiling, clapping, cheering us on. No one knew we took lessons, and Mike’s staying in step was a complete surprise to everyone. We received several compliments that night. People who knew Mike (and his bad-dancing prowess) were in awe at his moves that night – well, at least during our first song. 🙂

The song was Harry Connick Jr.’s “It Had to Be You” from When Harry Met Sally. I keep the song on my iPod, and when shuffle decides to play it, I listen to it all the way through. Reliving that night, that song, that dance. It’s kind of nice to remember the good.