I went to yoga the other day — my last one before Christmas because there are no classes next week (although Leigh kindly offered to come in if anyone wanted her to). It was my favorite class yet.
She had said it would be slower and quieter, and she used Christmas music again. I swear, I could do yoga to Leigh’s Christmas playlist year-round.
I was feeling pretty anxious before I went because, well, more of the same. Anyway, I played the “If I were strong, I would …” game, and decided that if I were strong today, I’d have my best yoga class ever. Which I did.
At the end, we were lieing quietly, breathing as “Still, Still, Still” played.
“It’s OK,” Leigh suddenly said. “It’s all going to be OK.”
And in my completely relaxed pose, tears were just falling out of my closed eyes. Because nothing feels like it’s OK, and nothing feels like its ever going to be OK again. But Leigh said it would, and she’s the one with all the yoga journals. So there.
We finished, and she wished us a Merry Christmas, and Cathy snuck over and handed Leigh a card everyone had signed.
“I was already crying, y’all. Now I’m gonna cry even more!” Leigh said.
I had no idea she needed her words as much as I did.
