Last week we were sailing through practice. I have improved quite a bit and know all of the dance moves. My new problem is I do the moves at different points in the song than everyone else. But when I’m up front and I’m the only one kicking my leg up high, man. I nail it.
So last week we were waiting for coach to get the next section worked out in her head and moms are chatting it up. Coach asks, “anyone do cartwheels?”
We’re still chit chatting and yeah, I could at age 12. My arm shoots up as if an auto response to such s basic question. I look at coach. I look at my hand. Soon the wheels begin to turn again but it’s too late. I’m a chosen one.
I swear a bunch, do some extra stretches and she lines us up. I casually comment to the mom whose head is in my foot’s air space to watch out because it’s been oh 25 YEARS since I’ve attempted this.
Song goes on. 5-6-7-8. We step. We sway. I go. I’m doing it!
Left Wrist shouts out in agony as if to slap me across the face to knock some sense into me. Cut music. Girls are cheering. Moms are high fiving each other. One mom in the back comments she wished she could have seen the cartwheel by yours truly. Another mom proudly announces she HEARD it.
And that my friend is a legacy I leave to my daughter. Loud, grunting cartwheels at age 40.