Timeless Bond

Nobody teaches this dance. A small child climbs onto her father's shoes, he takes both her hands, and he walks her slowly around the kitchen or across a wedding-reception floor, one careful step at a time.

It works because of the shoes. She does not need to know the steps, keep time or be tall enough to reach; he does the footwork and she holds on. At some point she gets too heavy to stand on them, and nobody announces the day.

The picture is drawn in thin navy line on cream, with almost nothing filled in. He bends from the waist, smiling down at her, his hands around hers. She stands in a little dress with a bow in her hair, both feet planted on the tops of his shoes. The only flourish is a loop of line at his ankle. It reads as warm in a hallway and quiet in a bedroom, and it asks nothing of the wall around it.