Time of Your Life Competition

I see them in the park across the road every morning. They remind me of a flock of graceful black birds -- some sort of crane, perhaps -- as they slowly work through their movements. Yes -- cranes -- that's what they're like. Though maybe I mean the sort you see on building sites. Slowly lifting an arm, reaching it up towards the sky. Now swinging down again, slicing through the faint mist that seems to rise from the grass at this time of the day.

They're always there. In summer, they stand in a line along the cricket pitch. When the winter rains start to lash in from the south, they meet in the small covered area between the changing rooms. Of course, you've got to be up early to see them. By the time the first commuters are waiting at the bus stop, they're gone. But rising at the crack of dawn is no problem for me. You don't need much sleep when you get to my age.

Sometimes I spot them too at other times of the day, out of their uniform. Delivering grandchildren to the play centre. Picking greens beside the disused railway line. Fishing with long poles from one of the pedestrian bridges that span the river. Carting nets of melons or huge spikey gourds home from the World of Fruit.
I sometimes smile, but they don't seem to recognise me. I'd love to be brave enough to ask to join their group.

I was hopeless at sport when I was a kid. My ankles twisted if I tried to run. I couldn't get a basketball through a hoop, to save my life.
Always missed the goal at hockey. Tennis was a complete torment. And needless to say, I was no good at ballet.

But when I see the crane dancers in the park, I feel as if at last there is something that my body would be able to do.
One morning, as I stand at my window watching, I find myself starting to go through their motions. Feet apart, left foot forward, knees slightly bent, I point my left hand up towards the lightbulb while stretching my right arm diagonally back in the direction of the phone connection... It feels good.

As if some of their power is entering into me.
Soon it becomes part of my daily rhythm. I wake at dawn and have a cup of jasmine tea. Put on my black tracksuit, and wait till I see them coming out of the flats, crossing the road.
I'm so old that I can remember when these people first moved into this suburb. What a hullaballoo there was. Thank heavens that's over now.

Yesterday one of the women said hello to me in the supermarket. Now I see her glancing up towards my window as she walks towards the cricket pitch. I wonder how long they've known about me being in the group. Feet apart, left foot forward, I bend my knees slightly... Moving in time with my neighbours, I reach upwards and outwards. As the sky opens in the east, our new day begins.

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