there’s been a moment every day this week when i’ve realized i’m not going to yoga class. i’ve meant to go, intended to go, planned to go each day, but then i look at the clock and see that it is 11:08am and i’m nowhere near a possibility where i can change clothes and drive to the studio before noon because i’m in the middle of something else that will take more than an hour to complete. today, theoretically, i could have gone. when i looked at the clock at precisely 11:08am i was standing in the kitchen heating water for tea and i could have sipped my tea, changed clothes, and had plenty of time to drive to the yoga studio, but i didn’t want to. maybe i didn’t want to go because i’d have to slow down and feel some feelings i’ve been outrunning with busyness this week. maybe i didn’t want to go because i didn’t want to take off t’s hand-me-down sweater that she wore while she was pregnant, the sweater infused with unconditional mother love, the sweater that wraps me in warmth i didn’t get when i was tiny but that i receive in abundance now that i’m grown. maybe i didn’t want to go because some days i can’t tolerate leaving the apartment and interacting with the outside world. maybe i didn’t want to go because i wanted to stay home and write what i wouldn’t write if i went to yoga class because if i went to yoga class i’d be doing what i thought i *should* do instead of what i want to do. i want to write to you. i want to tell you that it’s okay, that i’m okay, that you’re okay, and i know you know that, but there’s a deeper way to know it and i want that for us, too. i don’t know how long it will take for us to trust each other, to trust that we’re safe with the other, to trust the love between us, to trust that we can untangle misunderstandings that we knot ourselves into and forgive the fuck-ups as they come and go. it’s okay for loving to be hard. it’s okay for loving to be easy. it’s okay for one of us to need more time and space alone or together. it’s okay to cry in front of me and it’s okay if i cry in front of you. it’s okay to hold on longer and tighter when i hug you. it’s okay for me to hold your hand. it’s okay if you don’t know what to say or do. it’s okay if i don’t know how to ask for what i want or need. we can be patient with one another. we can figure it out together. we’re not alone in this. we’re here together. and i mean you, the one who is reading. this is for you. these aren’t words strung together speaking to someone else. you’re here. i’m here. we’re not alone.