We’re fortunate enough to live within walking distance of our gym. Wednesdays are yoga night. The class starts later in the evening, so as long as the weather and our schedules cooperate, we like to extend the exercise by walking to class.
We learned several weeks ago out our community end-of-summer party that our yoga instructor lives in our neighborhood (small world, eh?). We also ran into several members of our church and familiar strangers from the grocery store.
As we were walking to class this week, a car slowed down, stopped and the window rolled down. We paused, expecting it to be someone needing directions.
Nope – it was Heather, our yoga instructor.
Am I going to see you in class tonight? she asked.
Fair question. We’ve been super-busy in October and have missed the past three classes.
Yes! I said. We’re on the way there now.
She waved goodbye and headed off. The Boy paused, looked at me and said:
