On my yoga matt thoughts of you rush back. In my down dog, I remember the times when I rushed to finish my yoga routine hoping to beat Mother’s wake up clock. We were in the hospital those days. I’d wake up well before you did, meditate, journal write and dive into yoga. I didn’t always finish on time. Sometimes my practice ran a little longer and you were awake. You would start asking for things, breakfast, tea, nurse, open the curtains pushing me out of half moon or the dancer posture. I embraced the challenge of remaining in those poses you nagged. Rather than seize the opportunity to serve you Mother, I asked you to wait for a few more minutes while I finished my practice.
“Haram 3aleiky” you used to say. Why victimize yourself, I wondered. “Patience Mother” I ignored. But on my yoga matt today, those moments rush back. I still hear your voice, calling me to serve you breakfast midst my practice. It’s no longer a nagging voice, but a sweet innocent lullaby and two big almond shaped eyes twinkling a morning smile. Only sweet memories of you left behind. But, seduced by your appearance I am not. I remain steadfast in each posture. Some things just don’t change.
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