“Dance is the hidden language of the soul of the body.” ~ Martha Graham

Ashley moved the dance bag aside so Evan could have a seat. The other man grabbed a tango recording before sitting down.

“I know I taught you to tap,” Evan said. “But, when did the interest in tango begin?”

“Grandma and Grandpa Emery fell in love with it when they went to Uruguay. They say it originated there and not Argentina. I’m not going to argue. As for me dancing the tango, uh, no. That’s just a motivator to cleaning the house.”

Evan laughed. “I looked at all of the different classes Ms. Gates teaches and this was near the top of the list.”

“I love tap dancing. It…it helps me calm down sometimes. Tried tango once. Not ready for it ever, so… Swing, folk, jazz…I can have fun with those and do especially improv. I mean…” Ashley sighed. “Tango involves trust. I don’t have that outside of this family, not really.

“I’ll give her credit for drawing me out of my shell without pushing like Professor Wilder did. Not that I let my guard down completely, but…There were different styles she taught me, improv and ballet being my favorites, and she let me progress with tap. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t always find the exact words for what I’m trying to say.”

“Uh-huh,” Evan said. “Well, you’ve done quite well with your avoidance dance over the years for me to fail you. I’m sorry.”

Ashley shrugged. “That third year in college, when you told me to ‘come home,’ I thought you were…mad isn’t the right word, but…insane. To see what you all pulled off from some childish sketches-.”

Evan pointed at him with the recording. “Hey! Those were some imaginative architectural designs and you know how the older sibs get – they love a challenge. Besides, those ‘childish sketches’ have turned into a seriously nice sanctuary. Mama always said, right after your first visit to our place as kids, ‘Y’all know who’s gonna live in a library.’ And she’s right.”

The older man grabbed the journal from the backpack. “Let your mind dance around this: You’ve uncovered quite a bit, from Alaska to Uruguay to who knows where else. Not every story is written strictly with words and not every life fits into a single volume.”

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