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Friday, July 10, 2009

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The body remembers even as the brain blurs or skips some, despite aches, slowing down. It's like an old horse knowing the way home in the dark as the country doctor falls asleep on the wagon home after staying up all night with some baby being born. We become what we do repeatedly. The reason why athletes, dancers, soldiers, musicians, artists, writers, practice, practice, practice. Plus, the blessed ones just have muscles and nerves and a build that is so infinitely superior to us mere mortals. It's as if God plucked one in a million off the assembly line, added perfectly machined parts and put together perfectly, compared to the other shoddy, hastily put together 999,999.
My mother in law and paternal grandmother had been known not so much for beauty as for their irresistible powers of attraction in youth. Even in their 90s, they still spoke and held themselves and largely continued to charm, fascinate with ease whereas we younger females felt clumsy and clods by comparison. Nothing to do with looks, a similar grace and ease in their own skin...Odd.

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