Where a Mind Wanders

I am lying prone in the middle of the floor in yoga pants, and yoga socks, on a yoga mat. I am surrounded by friends on their yoga mats, with our life-filled, pony-tailed teacher in front of us. We are in Savasana, “corpse pose,” which means we have made it through to the other side of the rigorous class. Our minds and bodies can rest and be reborn.

It’s hard to quiet my mind, and it goes to you, Grandma, as it does so often. It goes to how I’m ever going to say what needs to be said about you?

My mind goes to how I feel your presence so often, but mostly when I’m at dance class, and how I sometimes feel as if I’m dancing for you, too, as if you have passed a baton and I’m grasping tight.

My mind goes to how I say Kaddish for you, Grandma, saying “Thank you, THANK YOU for this grandmother! Praise whatever power who gave me her!!!!”

My mind goes to my cousins, aunt, uncle, sister and parents, and how the most important thing in the world to you was family. How the most important tribute to you will be us sticking together.

And my mind goes to three weeks after you died, when my baby texted me from a friend’s Bar Mitzvah party. I was certain he would be saying “pick me up, I want to go home,” but instead he sent a photo, an airbrush design he had just requested be painted onto a baseball cap. The kids could ask for anything at all, a favorite team, a logo, their name. I stared at the photo, breathless at what he’d commissioned for his hat: “The Spirit of L.D.”

My mind goes to how I am not the only one with you on my mind.

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