My Son

My Son

“Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy …” ~ John Lennon

I’ve learned that we never stop growing up, but I have a son who I keep thinking is all grown up.

Or, so it seems to me.

I guess I think he is all grown up because it’s hard for me to find anything that I can still do for him or that he needs me still to do. As a young adult, he lives on his own in another city and has a job and supports himself.

When he was little, I’d pack his lunch, hold his hand, buy his clothes, play endless catch, sit on the sporting sidelines, keep him dry in the rain, and tuck him in at night.

Now, he does all that and more on his own, and I’m certainly not the one tucking him in at night.

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Peacefully Unfolding

Peacefully Unfolding

Sometimes, there are situations about which I cannot figure out how I feel until they are over.

I can have delayed reactions where my anxiety level skyrockets, and that never serves me well.

I wind up taking a break from everything, including yoga.

Anxiety never leads me in the right direction. And taking a break from yoga, however short, is always the wrong direction.

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