Transformations

Buttonhole Scarf in Two Shades in Malabrigo Rasta

For Maeve

Lucy, my daughter,  thought this multicoloured wool was Maeve's style, and even more so in a combination of two shades. Then she asked me to do the knitting in time for Maeve's birthday, My knitting for Maeve's birthday had precedent, because the very first time I met her was when she had arrived a few weeks ahead of schedule, and I was handing over some hastily completed baby knitting.  As soon as she  and Lucy had any say in the matter, they became inseparable friends - inseparable meaning many things in childhood...

Lucy seeing Maeve for the first time in a sweater knit for Lucy to which she had been allergic, knowing that, unlike herself (Lucy), Maeve cared nothing for pink (or not up to that point she didn't)

The good days far outnumbered the bad, however, and it’s hard to think of any time when Maeve didn’t play a huge role in our family – Never more so than when I saw a photo of myself and realised it was all wrong in a way that had nothing to do with the dress.  And as Maeve was working in a gym close to my house and (fearing that at any second my moment of truth would pass) (as other similar ones had) (to be perfectly honest), I got in the car and drove (..) the short distance to Maeve's gym (...),  arriving mortified and slightly hysterical. Maeve was cool as a breeze - everything was possible, she said, even as I immediately began searching for gaps in the fence to avoid what I knew had to be done.

I snorted..

“Even a washboard stomach? That's possible too? Huh?” 

“Don’t see why not”

I sneered...

“But I never had one - even at my thinnest.  This will never work”

“Well you could in time, if you wanted to bother” 

... played helpless..

“What should I do? I have no gym-type things. I don't know where I'd get that stuff”

“Just wear any  old thing and get a pair of trainers. You need a pair of trainers. See you tomorrow at 11”

... and dumb..

"Don't I need, like, special spandex or something?"

"Of COURSE not.  See you tomorrow"

 No getting round it, and as much out of embarrassment (in front of a someone for whom I'd babysat...), I went...drove... to the kind of place that stayed open late to sell people trainers and showed up miserably next day. And logically I ought to have known of the existence of Maeve The Teacher, but in reality I didn't because I'd never thought of her in that light.  The role reversal came as both total revelation and joy - This Maeve was a source of authority, trust, positivity, possibility, and above all calm… no panic, even when in my opinion there was every reason that there should be panic...and an awful lot..  She's quite simply a natural  - and the good news for a new generation of musicians, as well as gymnasts and swimmers, is that she also teaches piano!  And of course I didn’t end up with a washboard stomach, but I did keep going... more or less... which was pretty miraculous. In truth, a washboard stomach wouldn’t have been very me anyway... Which is very much on point, as the identity of the pupil is a factor which Maeve not only takes into account, but fundamentally respects -  the secret ingredient which holds and inspires wonkier contenders such as me.

I really hope she knows she's a very rare breed and am daily aware and thankful that, however bad things are with me (and I'll always be far from exemplary in the fitness arena), they'd be a whole lot worse had it not been for Maeve.