Something to Twirl About

When I was seven or eight

I took baton twirling lessons

in preparation for the 4th of July parade.

I remember polishing my Keds

and first-aid taping the ends of my baton

to sparkle whitey-white.

Roughly 50 (gasp!) years later,

I had the idea of picking up the baton again.

Not a metaphor.

Literally.

I must have mentioned this

because Tessa got me a baton for my birthday.

I was outwardly appreciative

and inwardly thrilled.

I can’t remember my gmail password,

but I can remember my entire

4th of July baton routine from 1965.

Oh, but there’s more.

I decided I needed lessons and

found Torrie Rose,

a lovely young woman and

former national competitive twirler.

At my first lesson

I got an hour of twirling instruction

and an hour of genuine affirmation.

“You’re doing great, Julie!”

“You’re so good at this!”

After that first lesson

I nearly wept in my car

over how deeply grateful

I am to be

acknowledged and affirmed

from such a pure of heart person

sharing her gift with whomever

wants to learn.

Maybe you can’t go home again

(A metaphor),

but you can twirl as long as you like.

(Not a metaphor. Well, maybe.)

 

 

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