It was a hard thing to realize she couldn’t do some of the things she
wanted to do anymore.
Her body was no longer young and nimble, and it tired easily, stumbling
without warning.
There were so many things she still wanted to do and so many places she
still wanted to see, but not doing or seeing was not an option.
The things she could do were still glorious and beautiful, and she’d
learned (the hard way) that sometimes when you fall, you see the tiny things on
the ground that you would have stepped on, squishing their beauty.
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