Two weeks ago I had a yoga private with a woman whose dementia is slowly eroding her memory and concept of time, place, space. She is incredibly lovely, a former English teacher and beloved mother and grandmother.
When I arrived at her apartment, she was staring at the snow swirling outside her kitchen window. I went and stood next to her. We didn’t talk for a few long moments. Without turning to me, she whispered: They don’t always dance this way. Usually they just fall.
If you’re cursing a snowy commute or canceled travel plans this weekend, I humbly offer the cogent observations of an incredibly wise, wonderful woman for your consideration. Precious is the life that lets us witness this ballet…
Bon weekend!
This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing!
though i’m not in snowy new york at the moment, i needed this today. beautiful.