Age and Flexibility

By Miriam Weiser

I’m sitting on a hard folding chair that is threatening to crack under my heavy weight and I’m watching the children run and play. I see their arms flailing and their legs flying. They don’t think twice or look down to watch their step. They don’t take a deep breath or take a moment to contemplate each time they bend. They don’t check for cracks on the sidewalk or steps at the curb. They run and twirl freely. Their bodies are flexible as jelly fish and I wish I had that.

Not their bodies. I am too old and mature. What I wish I had was their flexibility. I have seen people of all ages and stages run and jump and let their bodies fly in freedom. I can only imagine feeling that uninhibited. I can imagine it only because I’ve dreamed it many times.

In my dreams I glide like an angel (ghost?) along the streets, up or down the stairs, many stairs, flights and flights of them circling like a cylinder, round and round and up as far as the eye could see. No human could do that as gracefully as me, in my dreams.

I remember when, as a chubby little girl, I made the decision to try and teach myself how to make a cartwheel. Was I thinking that it would help me become nimbler? Would it help me become thinner? It pains me to come to the realization that nearly thirty-eight years later I am still doing stupid things to try and change things about my body. But not to worry. I never got past the raising my hands high part. I could do that well.