First, I heard her steps; musical, magnetic. Then I saw her enormous hat--

wide, sturdy, ripe-earth tone. Her long, blue dress floated in her

compass, and a magnolia scent flavored the air.

She walked in grace, in a symphony of her own.

I imitated her steps, in an attempt to grow grace...

Many winters passed before I saw her again; diminished, faltering steps--

minus the hat--a shadow of what she had been; as if one day the wind

swept her hat, and took her soul as well.

I long for the time when she walked whole...and I tried to imitate grace...

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