Page 2 of Check the Halls
That seems a bit counterintuitive, doesn’t it? It’s like she’s telling us to think about not thinking. I try not to think about it.
“Channel your luminous essence within,” she continues as she navigates herself around the room, weaving in between the sea of expensive yoga mats. “Draw forth its radiant energy from the sanctum of your being. Now envision this divine force transforming into a glowing sphere of pure vitality. Anchor the sphere by engaging the deepest seat of your power—your glutes. Clench them with unwavering resolve so the sphere of light doesn’t fall.”
An image forms in my mind of everyone in the room with glowing balls hanging from their butts and a small snort escapes me, audible enough that the woman beside me glances over in annoyance. Her one-piece bodysuit matches her mat and water bottle, all bubble gum pink. I give her an apologetic smile. I close my eyes again, grounding my feet and shoulders into my mat, but I can’t shake this feeling of homesickness. If my mom were on the mat next to mine, I’d have someone to snicker with about the ball in butt analogy. I miss the familiar voices of my old teachers and the easy chatter before and after class.
“Inhale with intention, drawing the breath not just into your lungs, but into your heart. Hold onto the breathlike it’s precious, because it is. As you exhale, release what no longer serves you. Again, breathe. Deeper this time. Allow the universe to enter you and absorb it–keep it inside of you.”
After years of practice, keeping things inside of me is something I’m good at. You might even call it a strength.
When the instructor starts talking about clean chakras and blank minds, I officially throw in the metaphorical towel. If I can’t sink into a meditative state, I may as well try to get ahead of the game. I start to make a mental to do list. Thanks to my new job, new condo, new everything, the list is longer than my arm.
First on the list: streamline the gala planning process at my new job. Second on the list: do number one without stepping on anyone’s toes. Upon starting in my new position, it was made clear the upcoming annual fundraiser was my top priority. The previous director of operations and events left things…chaotic. I’ve spent the majority of my time so far searching for missing spreadsheets, trying to decipher conflicting event schedules, and figuring out how the proposed timeline works in our space-time continuum. If I want to be seen as an asset to the organization I worked so hard to be a part of, the upcoming Star of Christmas Gala needs to be executed flawlessly.
I mean, it’s only their largest fundraiser, aiming to raise over four million dollars by hosting several hundred of Ottawa’s most prominent citizens. No pressure.
As we move into Happy Baby pose, I add “tidy up the condo before Derek’s mother arrives” to the list. I’m mostly unpacked after moving in with Derek, but if Kathleen Boudreau sees one cardboard box, I know she’ll have something to say about it. Likely several things.
Next, I need to find a new vet for Cheshire. He needs a vet who understands his physique. At nearly eighteen pounds, he’s not just a tabby—he’s a force of nature. A previous vet once referred to him as “fat,” but I prefer “solid” or “substantial.” He’s so much more than a number on a scale. He’s loving, clever, and occasionally mischievous and I have adored that miraculous ball of orange fur since the day I met him ten years ago.
Don’t go there, Maddy.You have enough things on your mind without thinking about the day you got Cheshire, or the person who gave him to you. The last thing you need is your ex-boyfriend taking up valuable mental real estate.
Who am I kidding? Ben Michaels has his own private suite in my temporal lobe. I’ve tried for years to evict him, but to no avail. At this point, I’ve just learned to live with his ghost.
I let out a sigh that borders on a groan as I make my way into Savasana pose and the pink clad woman beside me aggressively turns her head, glaring at me, but I don’t smile this time. Oh well. At least she made eye contact with me. Human connection is human connection, right?
By the time the class ends, I’m somehow more tense than before I started. I pack up my things and thank the instructor on my way out. The September midday heat hits me the moment I step outside, a jarring contrast to the perfectly curated atmosphere of the yoga studio. I walk quickly to where I parked my car, digging through my oversized purse for my keys which are buried somewhere in the array of items. Ben used to tease me that I’d give Mary Poppins a run for her money given how much I carry with me at all times.
“Ben?”
The worried female voice stops me cold.
Did I imagine it?Or did I manifest it?
No. She's real. Warning bells sound in my head as I scan the area.
False alarm. Ithasto be.
He’s not here. Hecan’tbe here.
Then I see him.
I stare at him and he stares back.
Ben.
Six feet in front of me, looking just as stunned as I am, is the ghost from my memories. My heart thuds against my chest as my mind desperately tries to make sense of what it’s seeing. His dark hair shorter, his jawline sharper, more defined, but his eyes are exactly the same. God, those soulful brown eyes—that still have the ability to unravel me in a single glance. They lock onto mine like he can’t believe I’m real, as if he’d stepped out of some dream he knew he shouldn’t be having.
People bustle past us on the sidewalk, completely oblivious that the world itself has stopped turning. My knees are weak and my lungs are tight, as if all my air had been stolen from me.
Say something.Anything.
“Ben?” My voice trembles on the single syllable and I watch him blink several times, like I’d broken a spell he was under.
“Hey, Madness.”
His voice and the old nickname hits me like a combination punch. There was a time when that name made me feel so many things. Treasured. Seen. Understood. Now, it’s a painful reminder of what we had and how we lost it. A wave of emotion swells in me. Feelings that I had keptinside for years threaten to spill out of me right here and now. I blink back the tears stinging my eyes and force myself to speak again.
“What are you doing here?”
