Well, it’s Tuesday again. So, like every Tuesday for the past six months, I shower, put on my yoga duds, and wait for my daughter Colleen to arrive.
When she does, we make a pot of fresh coffee and spend time chatting about the week’s happenings:
-Her husband has an interview for a better job.
-She found the greatest vegan cookbook, so we should come for dinner next week. -Her neighbor’s rooster got out again and kept all the dogs barking last night.
Then we get down to work.
“And this week, it’s your turn to lead, Mom,” she reminds me.
oh boy, I whisper to myself.
I pull my purple yoga mat out from under a livingroom endtable, unroll it, and scramble around for a moment looking for my yoga strap.
Good grief, I muse, who would have thought I’d be doing something like this?
It’s been six months now, six months of Tuesdays. Six months of bending and stretching, reaching and , let’s face it, moaning and groaning
“Okay, class,” I take my position sitting cross-legged on my mat, “first we’ll do some stretching. Extend your legs, and as you lie down, bring them up…and down, ever so slowly…use your strap for guidance only…that’s it…,” my teacher’s voice trails away as my body goes through the motions I describe.
“Hey, you’re doing pretty well,” Colleen says with a smile in her voice.
We spend more time with guided stretching, then, I move us into cat-cows, downward dogs, cobras, three-legged dogs, pigeons, and finally I’m ready for the dreaded camel.
“You want to see it again?” Colleen offers as she gets into the kneeling start position on her mat.
“I think I’d better.”
She leans backward, sloly, in one smooth motion as I rest my hand on her shoulder. She moves my other hand to her back, where I observe her graceful bend, then she reaches back with both hands, and clasps her feet behind her.
I sigh in awe of her flexibility.
“Your turn”, she laughs.
I take my position, let out a deep breath, and begin easing my way backward…one piece, I think, one piece. Then I bend my back, ease my shoulders downward and look up toward the ceiling.
“You’re doing it, almost there!” Colleen cheers me on.
I snap back up again.
“Just too chicken,” I declare.
“You were so close,” she hugs me and we both take our places in the corpse position, the final pose of the session. “You’ll get it next time I bet.”
“We’ll see,” I sigh, simply relieved to have made it through another session alive.
“So close with your camel, Mom, and you led a very nice 30-minute session. I’m so proud at how much you can do.”
I close my eyes with gratitude. That’s all I need, I sigh. pigeons and camels will come and go, but spending time with my daughter, hearing her cheer me on, and declare she’s proud of my efforts…pure bliss!