How would I describe myself?
"well-tattered resilient kindred spirit"
Taking count...
The only grace I ever felt was dancing on my pointe shoes a pas de deux with Phillipe Tallard over half a century ago in Cannes, France. That was magic. Now there are some infinitely small breaths of stretching during my yoga that sing. The rest of my day-to-day movements tatter and tear at my body in many new ways.
What counts though is what is inside, right? There, there are occasional moments of grandness.
It is the kindredness of friends, the bond with my siblings, the kindness of my Giui, the generousness of Sara's heart, and the patience of Julien's being that make this life precious.
(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)
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