Our bodies and our art want to thrive and they are looking for material in which to do so. It’s just like eating clean food. Over time, it’s what the body prefers and we stop thinking about Cheetos. Sometimes. Unless, of course, you have a southern mama who stocks her pantry with such and you binge once a month or so. But as mama says, everything belongs in moderation. .
They get their drinks and bustle around the room, still shuffling in slippers and robes for a good portion of our class. They seem kind to each other, and appear deliberate about starting the day with a steady purpose and slow steps. They usually sit down and look at each other right by the window, which I love the most, often about the time we are winding down towards softer and more supine poses.
Mom bought red satin drawstring bags for us to tote Benjamin’s ashes into Graceland. He was watching a movie called “Finding Graceland” when he died, and he liked Elvis enough to put him there. If Freddie Mercury had a house to visit, that would have been better but Memphis was drivable and had mystique.
The sound and smell of rain is wrapped around my sense of home and waist harness, and my dad loved the rain more than most things. I remember him sitting out on the porch on Fieldbrook Court during a rainstorm when I was small. These storms in Alabama were the kind that shook the rafters and struck thunder so loud it popped from deep underneath.