ice-skateI bought water from a machine in the basement of the ice skating rink, but could not open it. My fingers no longer grasp or close. I asked a stocky farm woman to help me out. She twisted the bottle open with ease.

Isabella asked me to lace her skates, really tight, Ma, but I could not. Not only couldn’t I pull the laces snug through the golden eyelets, I struggled to tie a bow at the top. She gently took the task away from me, as I spoke of scouting the room for a person who could do the job for us.

There was a moment when I felt tears surfacing. Is this where I am now? Is this what is next?

I had my astrology chart done today by a woman my age, who kept talking about us being in the last third of our lives. I wanted to say, ” speak for yourself. I’m only in the middle of mine. I am young with lots of projects stacked on the table, other countries to visit, and dances to dance.”  But tonight at the skating rink I had a sad moment when I joined her in the last third of my life.

I am told that if I give up chocolate, desserts, tomatoes, citrus fruits and all things wonderful, and replace them with medicine and oils that I might have a chance to get my fingers functioning again. It’s worth a try.

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