that girl, dance with that girl

Two bowls of rice and a platter of carrots and snap peas sit steaming on the table between us, and my uncle is telling me a story. I am rubbing the bottoms of my feet together, trying to massage some of the soreness out of them.

"I used to go dancing too," my uncle says. "We went out on Fridays. We'd invite the girls to meet us at a bus stop or something, then walk over to a classmate's house. Sometimes the parents would stay home, poke their head in from time to time. But some of our classmates had parents who would go out on a date and let us have the house to ourselves. Those were our favorites. "

"I had a classmate named Lisan who was a really good dancer, popular with the girls. When we went dancing, Lisan always got the prettiest girl. So I'd get to dance with her friends, who were usually pretty cute too. But every second or third week, we'd get to the bus stop, and Lisan's mom would be waiting for us there. 'I'll just come and sit in the kitchen,' she would insist. 'You won't notice me at all, I will just help to serve tea and snacks once in a while.' "

"He could never dissuade her. But once we all started dancing, Lisan's mother would sneak on into the living room and tap him on the shoulder. 'That girl, you should dance with her,' she'd say to him. He was so embarrased. "

My uncle and I laugh together, thinking about poor old Lisan and his mother who followed him to these dance parties. Little crow's feet appear in the corners of my uncle's graying eyes when he smiles.

"After a few times, we all got to be kind of fond of Mrs. Li, even though he wasn't too excited about her showing up," my uncle says. "Maybe it was a little annoying, but you got to thinking, 'that's kind of cute', you know?"

I nod. It is kind of cute, especially when it's not your own mother. My uncle puts down his chopsticks, rubs his eyes.

"You know, Lisan's a professor now. He lives just a few hours away," he says. "His mom is living with him now. He grew up to become a really responsible son. "

He thinks for a few moments. We are both about finished with the meal now, and it is dark outside.

"Mrs. Li is getting so old now," my uncle says finally, poking ruefully at his rice. "It does seem like a long time ago when we used to go out dancing. It seems right that we all grew up. But you don't expect Lisan's mother -- she used to just run right up to him and tap him on the shoulder, saying 'That girl, dance with that girl' -- you wouldn't think that she would get so old."