Page 4 of Both Sides Now

After offering up these retorts to my stunned and well-intentioned colleagues, I realized I’m not fit for human interaction.

Didn’t help that I made one of the women cry. Misery loves company, I suppose.

But seeing her tears only made me feel like a monster, so I apologized, hugged her, and returned to the safety of my house.

Thank God for the internet. Nine months ago, I began baby-stepping back into my yoga practice.

The mat is my home, even more so than my house. Far more now that Charlie isn’t here, although his presence pervades every square inch of the place. This house was never my choice, but Charlie adored the quaint colonial, along with all the fun upkeep that comes along with owning a home that was built when George Washington was a child.

I’m exaggerating.

He was a teenager.

But the repairs are endless. I’ve gotten quite handy at several of them. However, I made the fatal error of attempting a plumbing repair on my own. It only took the basement three months to dry out. Now it has this wonderful musty odor, and I have a $7,500 repair bill. Funny, but home insurance simplywon’t cover your own cock-ups. That’s strictly an out-of-pocket expense.

Isn’t home ownership grand?

But one good thing came out of my renovations. I enclosed the back porch, turning it into my personal yoga retreat. It overlooks the garden and has a beautiful view of the sunrise.

It gives me a reason to get up—at least three times per week. I lead a sunrise vinyasa class for a group of local students from the safety of my home. It allows me a glimpse into the world I’m not ready to enter, while proving to my students that I’m still on this side of the dirt.

And with each class, I grow stronger. More grateful for their enthusiasm.

I won’t lie. At first, their eagerness irked me. But now, I find solace in their smiles.

Perhaps one day, when I smile back, it will be the genuine article.

I blink open my eyes,shielding them from the glare of sunlight pouring through the window.

Odd. I sleep with the blinds closed and curtains drawn. But here they are, flung open to give the world a front-row seat into my boudoir.

Although my dog humping the throw pillow is the most action this room has seen in two years.

A grumble sounds from my side, and I chuckle as Domino snuggles deeper into the blanket.

I never wanted a dog. Even when Shawn and Suzanne brought the ball of fluff to my doorstep, I held my ground. No furry objects allowed.

Then she placed those tawny paws on my leg and released the cutest puppy whimper.

I didn’t stand a chance. The dog had practiced her role and delivered it to perfection.

Now, I can’t imagine life without her. Domino has saved me even more than yoga. Certainly more than well-intentioned friends and family. Domino never judges. She just exists in my life. Often front and center but sometimes in the periphery, when she senses I need the space or she’s spotted a garden patch that needs digging.

With her, I have a reason to get upeverymorning. Even when I don’t want to. Granted, the way Domino is snoring, it’s doubtful she has any early breakfast requests.

“Lazy mongrel,” I chide, tapping her on the butt as I slide out from under the covers. Usually, I’d take advantage of her inertia and claim another hour of sleep.

But not today.

Instead of dragging myself through my morning routine, I trot into the bathroom, eager to start the day. And this time, instead of avoiding my reflection, I meet her head on. For the first time in nearly two years, I see myself looking back from the other side of the glass.

Oh, yes. Today is different.

Something’s changed, and that something is me.

An hour later,I’m seated at the cafe with Shawn and Suzanne. My friends are incredible, dropping everything to attend this spur-of-the-moment get together. I know it’s no easy feat, corralling their tween to babysit their precocious toddler, but they managed it. All to spend an hour with me.

Now, let’s hope they don’t think I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.

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