Yoga and Fireflies

Yoga and Fireflies
Blessed relief. After feeling all of those strange homesick blues and scratching the multitudinous mosquito bites and doubting, doubting, doubting the retirement plan now that it’s here, and I’m gone, so gone with no going back, nightmaring about being a teacher in search of her own classroom, planless, strange, and utterly confused, heartbroken about my owngrievingchild, and glowing grandchildren, left behind, somewhere I loved with such commitment for so long–hot, guilty, and aching, body and soul, restless at night—legs jumping and the smell of damp and deepwoodsoff saturating the flat old pillow I didn’t think to replace… finally, several hours of blessed relief.
Yin Yoga just down the road at breezy hill, a drive in little beetle through farm country bursting with corn, and then to welcome me, quiet, dusk, and a yard filled with fireflies.
Taking some deep breaths without even trying. Namaste.


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