Her soft crepe-skinned hands, gnarled and weathered by time, draw me in closer. I’m there to comfort, soothe and help strengthen her aging muscles and joints but my heart is only feeling the desire to connect . . . to listen, learn and grow from her silvered-head wisdom. So I reach out and hold her hand.
While I massage her arthritis ravaged neck and lead her through mobility exercises, our souls converge. We talk about life and the simple joys which have defined her eighty seven years on the earth. Her voice, though frail and weak reveals a hidden strength, a powerful message of human resilience and survival. She is so beautiful to me.
She loves opera, so we invite the gifted voice of Andrea Bocelli into our time together. The songs she recognizes inspire a sudden change in her demeanor – her face lights up, she begins to hum and her posture lifts, if only for a moment, music is her healer, her joy and I am merely a side note . . . beautiful.
She laughs as she tells me in her dreams; her body is strong, lithe and youthful. “How are you feeling today,” I ask. “Pretty good,” she says. “I was just performing Swan Lake and flying through the air in a beautiful leap right before you arrived.” We laugh and enjoy the vision together. She never got the opportunity to take ballet when she was growing up, so every pirouette was only a vision in her head.
And then, serendipity reveals a most excellent prop. The rail that lines the hall to assist her as she walks, suddenly transforms before my eyes into the most perfect ballet barre and I offer to be her first ballet teacher. I find the perfect song. She stands tall holding on with one hand and my heart leaps with joy as I begin . . .
“Stand tall, feet slightly turned out . . . this is ballet position one, relevé or gently rise onto your toes and plié or bend your knees . . .”
Carefully, I take her through the basic ballet exercises adding in the classic Port de Bras arms so she feels the full inspiration of ballet movement. “You are so beautiful,” I exclaim. Her face displays her utter joy of finally at the age of 87 years old getting to take her first ballet class. We are both enthralled.
I feel so completely grateful to be with her. Our time together is now a highlight in my week. Although her body is failing her, her mind is quick and sharp and her stories are like music to my ears. Perhaps it is because I lost my mom as a teen that these moments mean so much to me. I’m not sure. I just know that while she believes she is the one who is receiving all the benefit of our sessions – the truth is my soul is enriched immeasurably with every encounter we share.
I hold her hand . . . and just for a moment, my life feels so much more purposeful. For me, this is as sweet as it gets . . . enjoying Bocelli, ballet and beautiful Irene.