I don’t know when it happened.

When I lost my groove.

Somewhere along the way, it disappeared and took a part of me with it.

It was a subtle departure, so I didn’t notice it at first. 

I was too wrapped up in the busyness of life. 

Raising our family, work, home, friends- life stuff.  

It wasn’t till later that I started to feel the dull ache of its absence.

Sometimes my groove would come to me in my dreams. 

I had this soft ethereal magical quality, beautiful, playful, and mischievous, a part of my feminine energy I missed. 

I felt so alive and vibrant. I didn’t want to wake up. 

But I did.

I got up and looked for my groove in the mirror.

An old woman stared back at me.

When did this happen?  

Where did I go?

I’m not talking about my aging.

I love how my wild silver locks, wrinkles and body tell a story of well lived life.

It’s my groove I miss.

That magical elixir that breathes light and life into sleepy parts of me, and shakes me by the shoulders   “Wake up! let’s go Shelley! screw wearing black, put on some colour, dance, twirl, let yourself be 100% unapologetically silly, throw snowballs at stuff or people, run in the rain, swim naked, break some rules, do whatever the hell you want  …” 

Man I miss my groove.    

So I decided I’m going back for it. I’m pretty sure I know where I lost it.

That’s a story for another time.

stay tuned