The Palace

     The music of the forties came through the radio on a warm night in the city. The songs were seventy years old, but to him, it seemed like yesterday. The "Palace" was the place where the big bands performed to an audience of dancers. Dressed in their most elegant evening attire couples forgot their troubles leaving them at the doorstep as they held each other and moved to the songs of the times. The booze flowed, and cigarette smoke filled the dancefloor as the hours flew past.

     Dancing made you forget as the tunes grabbed hold and fed your desire to glide across the floor with grace and confidence. Young and old together in one big dance as new loves were born and old ones rekindled. Babysitters waited as happy couples bid them goodnight, checked the sleeping children, and giggling softly leaving a trail of clothing ending at their bed. Morning would bring screaming kids and headaches and life went on at least until next month when the Palace would have a new band, and it all began again

     His granddaughter came into the room just about to comment on the song playing when the old man took her hand and whisked her around the kitchen floor. His smile as big as she had ever seen, and his stocking feet were sure and steady. He told her that was her grandmothers and his song. That he had requested it be played every time they went dancing at the old Palace. The song ended, and he sat back down the smile gone, and a small piece of him left on the kitchen floor. It seemed like it was only yesterday he said softly. His stocking feet moving ever so lightly beneath the table.

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