What Is Tango?

The coffee arrived before either of us spoke.
El Viejo always waited for the first sip.
He said coffee should never be hurried.
Neither should questions.

I watched the steam rise between us.
Finally I asked,
“El Viejo…”
“What is tango?”

He smiled.
Not because it was a foolish question.
Because he had been waiting for it.

Instead of answering, he looked through the café window.
Across the street an elderly couple were walking home.
The woman walked slowly.
Much more slowly than the man.

Without thinking, the man shortened his stride.
He didn’t pull her.
He didn’t hurry her.
He simply changed his own walking.

I laughed.
“They weren’t even dancing.”
“Weren’t they?”

I looked again.
The man wasn’t leading.
The woman wasn’t following.
Neither seemed to be thinking about it.
They were simply…
walking together.

El Viejo stirred his coffee.
“Most beginners think tango begins when the orchestra starts.”
He shook his head.
“Tango begins much earlier.”

“When?”
“The moment one person says…”

Silence settled between us.
Outside, the couple disappeared around the corner.
He took another sip.

“My friend…”
“Walking is easy.”
“Walking together…”
“That is the lifelong lesson.”

I looked down at my notebook.
Pages of figures.
Sequences.
Arrows.
Foot positions.

“So should I stop learning technique?”
He laughed.
“No.”

“If you want to write poetry…”
“You still have to learn the alphabet.”

Do you feel the difference?

Notice something.
Almost nothing happens.
No dramatic revelation.
No sermon.
No long explanation.

Just…
coffee.
A window.
An old couple.
One sentence.

The reader discovers the truth with John.
Not because El Viejo explains it.
But because El Viejo helps him see.