Each time I visit it’s like all that sweetness of honey is still in the jar with a lid too tight to open. What will fail her next?
Ballet shoes have given way to pull-on velcroed slippers. A tutu would hardly hide a nappy.
“Would you care to join me” I offer the remains of her muscle memory. I stand, bow and offer the crook of my arm and we shuffle together toward shrinking tomorrows.