Theandric

A Chapter by Trée

Papa and the dance of doves.

"Grand, what is papa doing?" asked Kyra, her wide eyes locked on the ocean-facing deck.

Grand looked out the window and smiled. The hynerian she had fallen in love with many years ago still had it. His movements flowed as an easy breeze; a grace typically unknown in the male; a strength hidden in seamless elegance.

"Grand? Is he dancing?"

Reaching down, grand picked Kyra up and placed her on the counter. Placing her chin on Kyra's shoulder, together they looked. "I believe he is," she whispered.

"Why is he dancing all alone? Is papa okay?" Kyra whispered back.

"Oh, I think he is more than okay. Look just to his left. Above. Watch those birds."

A few feet above papa's head she spied a bevy of white birds, wings extended, appearing to float with the gentle undulations of a boat on the ocean. One by one they dipped, rolled and circled around, weaving in choreographed unison to the magnificent twirling figure below in the pristine white tunic. His hands seemed to have no beginning or end, a movement both circular and elliptical without being either, neither fast nor slow, splendidly hypnotic. Kyra watched, her tongue captive, her lips forming the shape of an un-uttered wow.

Papa moved from toe to finger as the wave unrolls upon the beach, a singular movement of flow more similar to melody than dance. The birds, evenly spaced, silent as the wind, formed a circle above his silver mane. Reaching upward, body and tunic a font of translucent morning light, finger tips blinding with the brilliance of ten discrete sunrises, diamond hair coruscating. Trees hushed and shrubbery kneeled; stones solemn spoke not in a breeze twirling as ribbons upon the banner of the day.

"Would you like to join him?"

Kyra nodded.

"Go."

Kyra ran. Papa turned and with a serpentine twisting of arms he leveraged her momentum and without flesh touching, catapulted her small frame into the air above his head. The snowy birds haloed her black tresses. Papa lowered his arms. Kyra, held aloft as if in flight reached out and upon each palm a golden egg of energy appeared and the eyes of the birds shone from a source unknown. With a nod of his head, the birds circled downward and Kyra, in suite, glided back to the deck. "Papa, how did you do that?"

"I didn't. We did."

"How?"

"You believed. And when you believe, when your heart is but a vessel for the greater Love, unfiltered in the dross of life, then, my dear, you and I, we, together, can do magnificent things. Now hug me."

Grand watched. Her eyes as a lake after a hard rain, brimming with love, reflective of the love before her eyes, the love of a grandfather for his granddaughter.