After days of cold and dark and rain, Mother Nature did an about face and Sunday dawned warm and sunny and a perfect day for an afternoon wedding. And so it was with blue skies and wispy white clouds floating overhead that we made our way down the path towards a gabled country house with pitched slate roof nestled on the edge of a manicured clearing next to a vast grove of old hardwoods.

Here, just before 2 p.m. with nature in the background and a judge in black robe presiding, Renee and Chuck said their vows surrounded by several generations of family and an assortment of friends. Champagne followed with toasts poetic, nostalgic and wise. If good toasts bode for a good marriage, then this one is sealed with bounty and promise.

There were drinks on the terrace and snappy servers in black and white with trays milling about with delicate delights. Lunch was served in the dining room, tiers and arrays from which to choose.

And then the music began.

The bride and groom danced alone. Then the wedding party joined them on the dance floor. And then we were all invited to dance. And some did, but most sat, or stood and watched. The selections were toe tappers, bouncy wedding music that is familiar and easy and fun.

And then along came Dennis. He had his moves and his grove and he seemed to like dancing solo as much as with a partner. He was a crowd pleaser, all right, and his enthusiasm was contagious. Dennis all but filled the floor with dancers who circled round him and followed his moves - hands in the air, hands down low.

Part of Dennis’ dancing boldness was coaxed on by his own shadow that loomed tall on the sun lit floor. The shadow fascinated Dennis as he chased it, studied it and engaged it in all kinds of dance moves. Eventually we learned this confident and bold dancer’s identity. He was the grand-nephew of the bride. He was all of age two. And this little tike proved to be the ultimate wedding planner’s secret weapon as his footloose innocence and joy proved to be contagious.

I may be wrong, but I think when the music starts, we all want to dance. I think at some point, at some moment we want to kick those feet up and go with the rhythm. What keeps us in our seats, shouting small talk over the din, well, it’s fear. It’s fear of looking foolish, stepping on toes, being turned down, whatever.

And so, when the music plays a certain conflict sets in. And when the line dance forms, you think “what fun, if only I knew how, if only I...”

But back to Dennis. This little guy had no fear. He also had more energy than height. And when the novelty wore off, or maybe it was just shear exhaustion, the dance floor thinned. But Dennis was having none of it, the afternoon was still young.

And so, Dennis took matters into his own hands, by taking the hands of others. One after another, taking them in the order they sat, he walked up to those seated round the dance area, took them by the hand and walked them to the center of the floor.

And here is the amazing thing, no one turned Dennis down. Not a soul. When he came to an older gentleman with a cane, my heart ached - for both of them. But my ache was for naught, as the man with the cane followed happily. The invitation to dance was accepted without reservation.

And so perhaps, at some time in our lives, we are all waiting for Dennis. Waiting we sit, for him to come, take us by the hand, and lead us towards the music.

What joy! Come dance.