I found myself back at the Calgary Stampede dancing with Maddie, just like we had that night.

“Are you having fun?” I whispered into her ear.

“Absolutely,” she whispered back. She nestled her head into my chest and I could swear my heart started to purr.

We continued to waltz when we saw a man dancing with a girl, obviously his daughter.
“Do you ever wish we’d had a third child?” I asked Maddie.

“Sometimes,” she said. “Sometimes I wish for a daughter, but then I think about how much work it would be. At my age, I’m not sure I could handle it anymore.”

I thought back to when Michael was three and Danny was less than a year old. Life was good – when they were healthy. But when they were sick, I swear I would have sold them to the gypsies for just one hour of uninterrupted sleep.

“If we could somehow guarantee that the next one would be a girl, I think I’d go for it,” Maddie said, “but I know life doesn’t offer any guarantees.”

She snuggled into my chest again and we continued to dance.

When the song ended, Maddie looked up at me. “I think someone is signaling that they want to dance with you.” She pointed to a young girl that was standing along the wall.

Suddenly I was transported back to a high school gymnasium. Maddie was no longer standing beside me, but standing beside the girl who wanted to dance with me. I held out my hand and the young girl smiled and started walking toward me.

The girl was my daughter, Sarah, and this was the dance that I’d had with her at her high school graduation.

Garth Brooks started into his song. He was no longer the baby-faced Garth that had been there at the start of the night, nor the silver-haired man he is today. He had dark hair and a dark mustache and goatee. The song was “The Dance”.

I remembered the night that Maddie and I had volunteered to be chaperones at our daughter’s high school prom. When Sarah was born and we’d discovered that she had Down’s Syndrome, we weren’t sure she’d ever get through public school, let alone high school.

She wanted to go to the dance, but no one had asked her, so Maddie and I decided to volunteer as chaperones and bring her along. Sarah had always been a warm, friendly person and we knew she had some good friends, but we had always been on alert to protect her from bullies and teasing.

Much to our surprise, she was popular. Several boys had already asked her to dance. Although she was designated as special needs, she also possessed special attributes. Everyone seemed to be drawn to her because of her warm heart and the ability to see the good side of everyone she met.

Maddie had told me later that Sarah had told her she wanted to save the first slow dance to be with me, her father. I felt honored.

Yes, I could have missed some of the pain of raising a special needs child. But I now realized, if I’d missed the pain, I’d also have to give up the dance, and that was something I could never do.

When the song ended and I opened my eyes, I realized I was now back in the Vegas nightclub. I was no longer dancing with my daughter, but with the cowgirl who had said they leave no man behind.

I felt a little embarrassed and wondered if I’d been squeezing her as tight as I had when I’d danced with my daughter.

I thanked her for the dance and quickly headed off toward the bathroom trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in my eyes.