Moving

There are a lot of changes afoot in this little life of mine and I’m finding myself exhausted. We haven’t quite found a place for every little thing yet, but somehow all the Ganesh statues ended up in the bathroom. I’m not sure why that’s where they landed, but they have. It’s either a really good morning meditation reminder or an awful scatalogical joke.

It’s odd to be at L.’s apartment and not have the nagging feeling that there’s something I’ve forgotten at home. This is my home now. It’s not his apartment, it’s ours. And there’s no discussion about when we’re going to see each other next or if I’m going home or coming over. Because now there’s just one place I’d ever go.

And if I ever forget to be grateful for him, all I have to do is wait until morning when we both rise to do yoga. I’ve never felt so supported in my practice as I do with him. We talk about twists and balances. We discuss breathing and relaxation techniques. Not all the time, of course. We also cook, watch horrible televsion and do more laundry than I ever imagined possible. But it’s there. Yoga is a part of our relationship, and now that I have it, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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