crackhead

She frequently asks me for stories about when I was little. One time I told her about the cracks along the cement path between the street and front door of my grandparent’s house,  how when I was little like her I walked it without stepping on any of the cracks. Sometimes realize I’m doing still, on sidewalks or subway platforms, measuring how may steps I take, fitting evenly between segments.  Yesterday, when we left the park she asked me to keep track of her walking, her eyes closed and notify her if a foot landed on any crack. Hit me suddenly that many people I teach especially older people who come to playing later in life,  who’s rhythm often is in and out, could use this game. Explaining the concept of rhythm often doesn’t fly at least the first times you try to position someone to get its meaning. You can sense when you’ve lost someone in an explanation. But I’m excited to have them walk through equidistant spaces, trying to time footsteps to a specific order, internalize their measurements. I feel like I realized a cure for the cold.

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