Away He Goes

This morning our home was abuzz at 4am. Our son was on his way to camp in Canada for the summer, and there was packing to finish and a 6:30am flight to catch. The three of us piled into the car and headed for the airport. It was a quiet drive there. No memorable or touching conversations. He pulled out his headphones and listened to music.

I go in with him to check in and tag the bags. We send off everything except the paddle – Air Canada wanted $100 to check the paddle with baggage! We say goodbye at security, quick hug, quick “I love you” and away he goes.

We drive home in silence. I choose to do a breathing practice since I have missed my early morning meditation.

At home my husband goes upstairs to bed. The house feels empty even though I would not expect our son to be up and about at 6am. Just empty. I go into the back room where I will begin my yoga practice. I will be teaching in a few hours.

I scan the room. On the floor in the middle of the room is a pair of worn pyjama bottoms. Well, they are the first item to move so that I can roll out my mat. I pick up the jammies, and instead of tossing them aside I bring them up to my face and smell them. It seems that before I can register the smell the tears have already sprung up and start falling. The tears quickly turn to sobs and I wander slowly into the kitchen to put the clothing into a laundry basket. I use the jammies to catch my tears. The sound of sobs has the dog agitated – he wants to help, or so it seems. Now sitting on the kitchen floor with the dog, who changed to wanting attention, I recognize that he is the perfect companion for me. I can hug him without needing to explain why or what is moving through me right now.

I hold off self analysis. That has taken lots of practice. The tears have done their work, and allowing the emotions to move through me and out into the universe. I resist temptation to smell again.

The clothing is in the laundry basket, I am going into my yoga space, and the dog follows. Noticing binders and a backpack on the floor near his desk I do not need to employ any resistance. They will stay on the floor, as reminders, until I am ready to stack them up.

I go into my practice – it is Wednesday and I am teaching.

Namaste