by Nancy Hightower
I remember hearing the beating of God’s heart. Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump. I swore it to be a holy thing. My father held me tight and said, Let that rhythm guide you, son. Cha-cha-cha. Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump. The living room spun into hallelujahs as he swiveled and swayed his hips, hand on stomach, eyes closed. Lips easing into a smile. Lawrence Welk crooned from the television to keep those toes tapping. My father listened, sashayed through life, hips pressed against my mother, my friends, my daughter. It’s a holy, holy thing, son. Cha-cha-cha. I shut my eyes, prayed for the beating of God’s heart to drown out all other sounds.
Nancy Hightower’s work has appeared in storySouth, Word Riot, Gargoyle, A cappella Zoo, Prick of the Spindle, Prime Number Magazine, and is forthcoming in Sundog Lit. Her short story collection “Kinds of Leaving,” was shortlisted for the Flann O’Brien Award for Innovative Fiction, and Port Yonder Press will publish her collection of poetry, The Acolyte. She currently reviews science fiction and fantasy for The Washington Post.
Image credit: ~BostonBill~ on Flickr