Reminiscence

Herself misses taekwondo.

It has been nearly two years since the black belt test.  It seems like an eternity.

She misses the uniform, the belt.  The ritual of bowing, the grace of forms, the smell of a just-bleached mat. The sense of accomplishment when learning something new.  The challenge of pushing herself beyond her physical capabilities. The remarkable fact that she -- always last to be picked for teams in grade school, perpetually uncoordinated, tripping over Nothing -- could manage on occasion to get her body to do exactly the right thing, or could sometimes even demonstrate a proper technique.  The fear-fueled glory of surviving a sparring class or a belt test.  The camaraderie of the adults in the class as they sweat and suffered together.  The feeling of belonging to a group with a common goal and purpose.  The sense of being useful and helpful to the Littles of the classes.

There are also aspects that she does not miss. Many.

Some days, though, t is a cold comfort to focus on the Bad, in order to feel less sorrowful about no longer having the Good. When her bad hip aches after five minutes of lying on her side in bed at night, she is reminded anew of her physical limitations.  Time passes, things change, and people change, and she knows that even without the Bad, she would not be able to find again the Good as it once was.

Alas.

She still has the belt, though, as symbol of her accomplishment. That is hers, always.