Morning yoga

My feet glide my sleep-filled bones towards my mat. I bow quietly, tentatively start a series of yoga poses. Lotus. Butterfly. Hero. Thunderbolt. Supine spinal twist. Pigeon. Supine pigeon. Revolved hand-to-big-toe pose. On and on, I slowly move my limbs where they should be, stretching my tendons, muscles, and my faith that the pain is manageable. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe again, until there is a shift in my willingness to move one more inch away from old aches.

I cross over the boundaries of decades long gone and suddenly feel myself young. My body memory rewinds the clock of time and rediscovers those precious, impossible poses of an aspiring ballet dancer. Flexible. Free to twist my body into pretzels of silliness. And so, I finish my session by sitting on the ground and bringing my big toe up to my nose in an ‘aha you thought I couldn’t do it’ pose. Et voilà.

Photo by Hoi An and Da Nang Photographer on Unsplash