Tiny Dancer

Three years ago, just after our move to Memphis, the city finished its renovation of the Levitt Shell, an amphitheater in the heart of Overton Park.  The site of Elvis' first public performance, the Shell is a historic gem.  To kick off it's new lease on life, the city began a series of free concerts from May to June and September to October.  On Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights in these months, there is a free concert, with a wide range of genres and artists represented.  

Between the price (FREE!), the ambiance, and the close proximity to our house, Jonathan and I have spent many an evening at Levitt Shell over the past three years.  Aside from the great music, half of the fun of a Shell concert is the people watching.  We've seen everything from interpretive dancers wearing Hammer pants and dancing to their own beat, to adorable couples who swing dance like experts!  

But the best entertainment comes from the crowd of children who end up congregating in front of the stage.    There's nothing like watching a child move to music without a care in the world, completely oblivious to the adoring giggles of onlookers, utterly unaware of what moves look cool or dorky.  

In the early years, when Jonathan and I speculated that we would like to start a family before leaving Memphis, I wondered if I would ever see my own child toddling in that crowd.  Then, almost two years ago, I sat with a burgeoning belly, listening to Derek Webb and feeling my little boy kick and somersault to the music.  And then in May of 2010, I tucked my two-week old into the Moby wrap for his first Levitt Shell Concert.  

(Boy, do we look TIRED!  And one of us looks a little chubby.  Are we ready to do this again!?! ;)

On Sunday night, some old friends passed through town for the evening.  In an attempt to pack some of Memphis' finest into just a few hours, we picked up Central BBQ take out and headed to the Levitt Shell to hear the University of Memphis Jazz Orchestra, Southern Comfort.  We picked out a grassy spot up front, spread out our blankets, and got settled.  

I don't have any pictures of the evening, but I want to paint the picture in my mind and remember it forever.  A cool fall night.  My seventeen-month old boy in a green and white checked shirt and conductor-striped overalls.  A mop of blonde hair waving in the breeze.  And dancing.  Lots of dancing. Before the band even began, there was my little man, bobbing to the beat of the music over the loudspeakers, toddling through the crowd and making new friends, attempting to climb on stage, high-fiveing a leather-clad biker, and inspecting a man in his wheelchair as though he drove some cool, tricked-out stroller.  

And then, when the band began to play and the colored lights began to glow and change, he was mesmerized.  He spent the entire evening dancing in front of the stage.  As I sat nearby, I took a mental picture: a blonde toddler in overalls, standing in front of the stage, hands and chin resting on the edge, looking up at the band and the huge Shell overhead, taking it all in.  I was desperate for my camera to freeze the moment forever, but instead I just sat back and tried to press the image into my mind. 

That night, as I tucked him into bed, I told him that he had made my dreams come true.  I got to watch my very own tiny dancer at the Levitt Shell.  And I will remember that sweet, simple night forever.