The Moment a Little Girl Doesn’t Learn How to Dance
by Lilyyy Dawn
On the seven hour drive to her great-grandmother’s funeral, a couple thousand Americans were killed by kamikaze planes in New York. The next couple nights, the news playing on the television in the great-grandmother’s house babysat her while her parents put things into trash bags and cardboard boxes.
At the funeral, the great-grandmother wore a lot of makeup. She didn’t even look dead.
“Don’t you want to hold her hand one last time?” her mother asked, “Go ahead, it’s okay to touch her.”
“No,” the little girl said, “she’s dead! I don’t wanna touch her!”
The great-grandmother seemed as if she were ready to jump out of the coffin and dance around the room.
The little girl would never learn the Charleston.