26
“Hi. I’m Carla. You have a beautiful practice.” The diminutive Asian woman smiles at me as she unrolls her yoga mat.
I’ve seen her in class before but haven’t introduced myself. Without the conversational lubricant of alcohol, I’ve become weirdly shy and uncertain. Plus, she intimidates me. Her poses are so precise, her breathing so unobtrusive. She’s a purebred straight from the groomer. I’m a stray mutt.
“I’m Jessica.”
We shake hands.
“Don’t you love Rhonda’s classes?”
I nod. I’ve graduated to Rhonda’s Sunday afternoon All-Levels Vinyasa. Still not as intense as the classes I once took, but challenging enough to keep my mind engaged and my body pliable.
“I’ve had a lot of different teachers, and there’s something truly special about her.”
“I know.”
“It’s like…” she continues
