Wave hands like clouds

 It was my 63rd trip around the sun today, and the first October of my life since the age of five that I could do as I pleased, all day. No job, no agenda. Only adoring creatures are allowed near me today: husband (frosting a cake for me), dogs (at my feet), foster kittens (on my shoulder, purring in my ear).

I am a person so lacking in coordination that I cannot learn dance moves, card tricks, juggling. I can't do that cool way of jumping on a bicycle, placing one foot on the pedal and swinging your leg over to the other side as you roll forward. I am completely amazed by people who can play the piano. Never the less, feeling the need for something new,  I signed up for a Tai Chi class this fall. We perform in front of mirrors, like a ballet class. But everybody is old. We are perfecting a move called "Wave Hands Like Clouds," an exquisite name for an elegant series of steps and gestures.

 I guess I'm the youngest person in the group; one fellow is on oxygen and every 10 seconds I hear the blip of his O2 pump, a snort of oxygen and a constant reminder of the passing time.  I watch myself in the mirror and I watch my classmates. In their socks and sweat pants they are so beautiful I can barely stand it.

"You must flow like a river" says the teacher. And so, awkwardly taking my place among the old beautiful people, I do. Outside, finally after the long drought of summer, it is raining hard.