Imagine you’re watching a flamingo. You can tell she’s an aged flamingo by her graying pink feathers and legs skinnier than perhaps even a flamingo’s legs should be.

Now, imagine her clomping, step by step along a sandy shoreline. She’s surrounded by other flamingos, some bright pink and graceful. Others. like our Madame Flamingo, are older, but doing their best to retain the youthful grace most once had. Madame Flamingo, maybe not so much.

The flock begins to walk faster, and Madame Flamingo tries to keep up, but the wet sand and waves around her threaten to cause her to trip over her own feet. She tries to shake the sand off as she mimics Alpha Flamingo, who squawks commands to assist. However, the harder Madame Flamingo tries, the more awkward she looks.

Suddenly, the flock begins to take flight. Like a pink wave, the front of the flock lifts up gracefully, then the middle follows. Madame Flamingo, of course, is at the back, still trying to kick sand off her large webbed feet. Sadly to lift off, she must also flap her wings. But that gets in the way of her steps. Still, she watches the leader, and finally gets her wings and feet in sync. Flight achieved!

Unfortunately, the flock has now in landing formation, and she must figure out how to do land gracefully. (To heck with graceful, she just has to figure out how to land without busting her beak.)

The above imagining is creative non-fiction — it’s all true, but also uses fiction methods to tell me story. If you haven’t guessed, it’s a metaphorical description of me in my 3-day-a-week gym class, a mix of Zumba, Pilates and Yoga.

Awkward, awkward, awkward. But it really has nothing to do with age. Like Madame Flamingo, grace and movement have never really been in my DNA, even in my youth. I remember also feeling awkward when, as a teen, I danced in my first Obon, and to be honest, every subsequent Obon since then!

Here’s a little secret: In high school, I had a desire to be a pom-pom girl in high school. (I was smart enough not to want to be a cheerleader – an impossible dream since I couldn’t tumble or do gymnastics.) But, a pom-pom girl? Surely I could jump around and swing a pom-pom to the music’s beat.

Today (and every day) as I watch myself in the gym mirrors, I have to laugh. Fortunately for me, as well as my fellow Armijo High School Indians, I never had the nerve to try out for pom-pom girl.

But, one is never too old for dreams, right? For instance, recently, my rearview-mirror-fantasies made a comeback after watching a Netflix documentary called America’s Sweethearts about the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. (Interesting behind-the-scenes documentary!) I admired the cheerleaders and couldn’t help wondering if I might have ever been able to attain such athletic ability and grace if I’d only put my mind to it.

Probably not. Because when I watch my reflection in the gym mirror, I see that old flamingo kicking sand off her feet and doing her best to flap her wings to the music, and my fantasies come crashing back to earth, though several beats behind the rest of the flock.

But Madame Flamingo is having fun, making friends, and MOVING.