Doing a cartwheel at twenty in the park because you still can is a tiny act of courage against getting too serious.

Growing up narrows what you let yourself do where people can see you. It happens by degrees and usually without a decision, until dignity has quietly become a small room you live in. A cartwheel is not important. The point is that you can still spend a second not minding how you look, and that capacity is easy to lose and hard to get back.

Do one pointless physical thing this week in front of somebody. Run for the bus you could miss, climb the wall, swim in cold water, sing in the car with the windows down.