I don’t know what I expected. I was early, entering the sunny heath past the duck pond I headed along a tree lined path that curved up into the park, leaving the city behind. I had hoped to find time to gather some courage.
By the swimming ponds I saw him, muscular, barefoot and holding a balance stick. He was early too. Dam…
I don’t know what I expected. I was early, entering the sunny heath past the duck pond I headed along a tree lined path that curved up into the park, leaving the city behind. I had hoped to find time to gather some courage.
By the swimming ponds I saw him, muscular, barefoot and holding a balance stick. He was early too. Damn.
I introduced myself, I’m who he was here to meet. I had booked this session.
We found an area in the open fields and sat down. I took off my shoes and socks. He took my feet in his hands and we talked about them together, he ran his finger along the scars. He asked a lot of questions. I realised how little I knew about what had happened to me, just that they had tried to reconstruct and straighten my feet to allow me to walk. But I didn’t just walk, I ran, I told him. I was the fastest girl in the borough for many years. Tears of pride and a tightening in my throat as I choked back so much.
We stood up, he guided me through balance exercises- watching carefully how I used my feet, suggesting some corrections to my posture.
There I was, barefoot, in public! Onlookers came and went, but I was too involved to worry, I was being held by his considered attention and it felt, ok.
Have you ever asked your mother about your birth? He asked, intuiting that I wanted answers about myself that were not his to answer.
On the way back to my parents house I called my mother and asked if she would meet me from the station, in the park perhaps. I'm ready now, and there’s so much I want to know.
Lovely to see your name again in my email notifications for the project, Nicola! I will be reading and responding to your piece on Wednesday (my once-weekly time for curating the project this season), but wanted to tell you already that I’ve seen your work come through and am looking forward to spending time with it! xx
Thank you Tanya. It's so good to be back here sharing my words. I realised that I would need to be doing a post a week until the end of the year to finish the seasons whilst you are still curating the content, which felt like just the perfect challenge for me. We'll see if I can stick by it. Looking forward to doing so. Many thanks again. xx
What a stunning and surprising piece. A piece so fully situated in a specific morning, place, experience that I was felt the full force of what you do from midway with ‘There I was, barefoot, in public!’ From this part on, the reader is on a journey back in time with you, with that huge new dimension that you are just about to step into, and we with you if the story continued. A really powerful and poignant use of the short form challenge I set here. Wow. Here is your link:
The Body Coach
I don’t know what I expected. I was early, entering the sunny heath past the duck pond I headed along a tree lined path that curved up into the park, leaving the city behind. I had hoped to find time to gather some courage.
By the swimming ponds I saw him, muscular, barefoot and holding a balance stick. He was early too. Damn.
I introduced myself, I’m who he was here to meet. I had booked this session.
We found an area in the open fields and sat down. I took off my shoes and socks. He took my feet in his hands and we talked about them together, he ran his finger along the scars. He asked a lot of questions. I realised how little I knew about what had happened to me, just that they had tried to reconstruct and straighten my feet to allow me to walk. But I didn’t just walk, I ran, I told him. I was the fastest girl in the borough for many years. Tears of pride and a tightening in my throat as I choked back so much.
We stood up, he guided me through balance exercises- watching carefully how I used my feet, suggesting some corrections to my posture.
There I was, barefoot, in public! Onlookers came and went, but I was too involved to worry, I was being held by his considered attention and it felt, ok.
Have you ever asked your mother about your birth? He asked, intuiting that I wanted answers about myself that were not his to answer.
On the way back to my parents house I called my mother and asked if she would meet me from the station, in the park perhaps. I'm ready now, and there’s so much I want to know.
Lovely to see your name again in my email notifications for the project, Nicola! I will be reading and responding to your piece on Wednesday (my once-weekly time for curating the project this season), but wanted to tell you already that I’ve seen your work come through and am looking forward to spending time with it! xx
Thank you Tanya. It's so good to be back here sharing my words. I realised that I would need to be doing a post a week until the end of the year to finish the seasons whilst you are still curating the content, which felt like just the perfect challenge for me. We'll see if I can stick by it. Looking forward to doing so. Many thanks again. xx
What a stunning and surprising piece. A piece so fully situated in a specific morning, place, experience that I was felt the full force of what you do from midway with ‘There I was, barefoot, in public!’ From this part on, the reader is on a journey back in time with you, with that huge new dimension that you are just about to step into, and we with you if the story continued. A really powerful and poignant use of the short form challenge I set here. Wow. Here is your link:
https://thecureforsleep.com/august-issue-sizeshape/#nicolareade
Txxx