My Body is a Stranger
It came from a place
Where I could compete with a squirrel climbing trees.
Where I did handstands, cartwheels, and backflips,
While giggling with friends sprawled in backyard grass
Tumbling with careless abandon.
Gradually, my body no longer cooperated.
My neck pinched. My back was unhappy,
And my knees ached.
With a sense of sadness and loss of my child’s body
I moved to a new space, the high school gym
Where I leaped over the vault, somersaulted in the air on trampoline,
And soared on the flying rings, my fingers tight in anticipation
Of just the right time to lift at the end of the arc.
But my fingers complained, my wrists rebelled,
And my ankles protested the landings.
My mind pined to stay, but despite my longings,
My body demanded relocation once more.
To dance the tango on skates, blades grinding into ice,
Music filling the arena, my partner’s hand firm on my back.
I loved the lessons, the preparation, the competition.
And skating with my children.
But I learned new words:
Separated sacroiliac joint, inflammation of the kneecap bursa,
Injury of the iliotibial band, cortisone injections.
My heart was on the ice.
So, the loss was more than the tangible damage,
More like a deletion of part of my spirit.
My body demanded another shift.
Skiing was easy.
My grandkids and I carving turns on fresh powder
While snowflakes, as big as marbles
Drifted down in the stillness of first tracks,
Pointed firs, swaddled in snow, enveloping the run.
The slopes filled me with new vocabulary:
Venous insufficiency from
Skating boots had been too tight,
Killing off capillaries in skin--
Ski boots followed, causing the same.
Broken tibia, fibula, and femur where they meet
At the knee.
I kept my skis and boots for a couple years,
Thinking—What? A miracle for my knees?
A cure for capillaries turned to scar tissue?
And then I sold my skis and skates
And cried.
Now I wake each day to a new body, an unfamiliar being.
“How did you hurt your back?” they ask.
“I don’t know—I just was tying my shoes…
My mind trails off as I think:
Suddenly there were cataracts, degenerating discs, failed root canals,
Basal cell carcinomas, arthritis, and others that I can’t pronounce or spell,
Or remember—and that’s another whole thing.
My body is a stranger.
But I am determined to make it do the clamshells,
Mini-squats, glute bridges, plantar flexions, and leg raises,
So, I still can bicycle and hike in my favorite forests
And meadows filled with the perfume of wild roses,
The trill of hummingbirds, and the cool breeze on my skin.