Abstract
Grace was my modern dance teacher. I adored her style and finesse, though she was very old, at least in my eyes and those of my grade school dance classmates. Her face was full of wrinkles and her hair was thinning and grey. Her hands had age spots and even her feet were wrinkly and gnarled, which we all knew since modern dancers like us wore bare feet as we twirled across the floor. Nevertheless, she was fabulously creative, energetic, and in tune with the world. Much later I discovered that Grace had actually been retired when I knew her, having been a dancer for an international, well-known modern dance company many years before. As a dancer, of course, she had retired somewhat young, though by the time I knew her she was quite advanced in age. She spent over two decades in her retirement years teaching young girls like me about the love of movement.