mom in summer.

things i noticed today.


bright street light against bald head of man chowing on church's chicken at 10 30 on a saturday night. standing alone. dressed in suit with cadillac holding his fries. wheels shiny. are you afraid of crumbs on leather?


that sometimes pain needs to sit on the shelf while i go to dance class. that it's healthy to press pause.

the organ in the background of madeline playing on my ipod. remembering grandpa's back in velour shirt atop stool, feet dangle. hymns with too much pedal. the wood paneling of that sweet cottage. sun kissed iced tea and grandma skipping with me down the sidewalk in our bathing suits. my young legs and swinging ankles like only children do.


the feel of this hand strong under my shoulder blade. it's pressure confident as i hold triple step with knees soft, waiting for the pull. learning how to follow. "take up your space" she says, "use it all". sensing the subtly of cues. knowing that these small things are the essence of the dance.


that my students are people too. little ones.


that often i cannot stay "on topic".


that consignment shopping and being resouceful reminds me of mom.


that i miss my friends from this summer. the treasure of weeks spent in another world. deciding last minute and picnics on mountains. the slow walk home. singing in the evening sun. cartwheels and leap frog. company.


bach flows differently years later. i love the phrase at the top and letting my fingers go.