Sunday, October 24, 2010
Savasana
I'm in my hot yoga class. 90 minutes. 105 degrees. Set your intention. I watch my face in the mirror, sweaty, flushed, focused. I picture his dusky face, swollen, putty-like, unmoving. Find your breath. His mother is sobbing in the front bench, a rumpled ball of tissue clenched in each fist. I hunch over awkwardly. She hugs me tight and trembly around my neck. She cries in quick Spanish into me. Find your balance. His dad, in his best suit, thanks me for coming. Use your core. His brother, his bone marrow donor, stands by the door, his spitting image. Find your breath. I cry. It's ok; no one notices. My tears fall into my sweat, and it all drips down to the floor. And in the end I'm laying in a puddle of my own salt. Savasana. Corpse pose. Remember your intention.
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1 comment:
Today I was exhausted. I was a caregiver to husband with Alzheimer for 13 years. He passed on 4 months ago. My son has agoraphobia for 4 years now lives with me, we can't find help for him. My grandson came to visit , he has Aspergers and my son could not handle his visit, We sent him home and I was so sad. I "fell" into your blog and read several entries and I knew that my life is not all that bad after all. Looking into your words and your world I am now sad for the ones who touch you daily in your work. You are an angel.
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