On December 4, her birthday, Niko fell on the ice, hit her head and suffered a concussion. She is still, of course, feeling the effects of that, but decided to go to yoga today--and that was a goog decision, since she was able to do some of the poses aand the watch and absorb the energy of the class for the others. We are at our usual bookstore/cafe and ahve started writing after a quick catching up about how and where we've been.
Where is my heart today as a bask (actually bake) sitting by this window with the sun high to the southeast. Outside, we.re wearing coats, but not hats and gloves--it.s in the 40s. This time last week? Our high for that day was, I think 11, but that might be an exaggeration. It was cruelly cold with snow for at least 4 days, and I think longer. but a break on Friday made those memories of the cold melt away like the ice on the sidewalks and drives. The metaphor works--since we do have remnants--and dangerous ones--of the ice, as we do of the memories, minus the danger.
that week and before, I took an intermediate jazz workshop--a bit above my head and challenging, but this is all to say that the dancing continues. Because I wasn't at the same level as most of the class (but can dance well enough not to embarrass myself most of the time),
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