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！ I am sick and tired of dancing with you！”I saw the 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.
My father waited up for me through my high school and college years when I danced my way out of his life.
Shortly after my first child was born，my mother called to tell me my father was ill.“A heart problem.”she said，“Now，don‘t come. It’s three hundred miles. It would upset your father.”
A proper diet restored him to good health. My mother wrote that they had joined a dance club，“The doctor says it‘s a good exercise. You remember how your father loves to dance.”
Yes，I remembered. My eyes filled up with remembering.
When my father retired，we mended our way back together again； hugs and kisses were common when we visited each other. He danced with the grandchildren，but he did not ask me to dance. I knew he was waiting for an apology from me. I could never find the right words.
As my parents’50th anniversary approached，my brothers and I 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. I’ll 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，and 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.
深深的父爱在轻盈的舞曲中变得温暖。
参考翻译（高昆）
在父母金婚纪念庆典上，伴着古老的华尔兹旋律，我与父亲在舞厅里优雅地翩翩起舞。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，不停地笑着对其他舞者点头致意。
大家公认，我和父亲是舞场中跳得最好的一对。父亲紧握着我的手，冲我微笑。多年来，我拒绝和他跳舞，这种隔膜现在终于消失殆尽。我们也终于可以重返最初的美好时光。
记得大约在我三岁时，父亲下班回家总要猛地把我抱进怀里，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，过一会儿再吃。”然后便唱起来：“把桶滚出来，让我们拥有一个快乐的桶。”我也跟着唱：“让我们滚走忧伤。”
就这样我们跳了很多年。直到15岁的一个晚上，当我沉浸在青春期莫名的悲伤中时，父亲拿出一摞唱片，揶揄着让我跟他跳舞。“来吧，”他说，“让我们滚走忧伤。”
我转过身去，父亲将手放到我的肩上，我噌地从椅子上跳起来，朝他尖叫道：“别碰我，我不想和你跳舞！”我看见他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。
从那晚以后，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，就上床去睡。”
“不，不累，”他总说，“我只是在等你。”然后，我们便各自关上房门，上床睡觉。整个高中和大学期间，当我舞动着离开他的生活时，他却一直在等待我和他一起跳舞。我生下第一个孩子不久，妈妈打电话告诉我，爸爸病了。“心脏问题，”她说，“你现在别回来，300英里远的路，会让你爸爸不安的。”
合理的饮食帮助父亲恢复了健康。妈妈来信说，他们参加了一个舞蹈俱乐部。“医生说这是种很好的运动，你还记得你爸爸曾经多么喜欢跳舞吧。”
是的，我记得，眼中浮现的满是回忆。父亲退休后，我们努力想让彼此的关系回到从前，每次见面时，我们会拥抱和亲吻对方。他和孙女们跳舞，但从不邀请我。我知道他是在等我道歉，但我总也说不出口。
父母金婚纪念日即将来临，我和兄弟们商量宴会事宜。哥哥说：“你还记得那晚你拒绝和他跳舞吗？好家伙，他真的生气啦？真不敢相信这点小事竟让他如此恼火。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。在父亲与他的孙女跳舞时，乐队演奏起了《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。”然后他笑起来，我们拥抱在一起。
Unselfishly 无私的爱
She is so beautiful，her love is from within. How can I praise this special woman where do I begin？ She always knows just what to say and what I need to hear，and when I need that special someone she is always near.
She always knows just what to do when I am feeling lost. Her kindness and compassion comes without a hidden cost. Unselfishly she shares her love and asks none in return. Love that’s unconditional from her is what I‘ve learned.
