Garage Sailing is a dangerous sport for Heidi Esther. Will her recovering soul now figure out how to enjoy it with her practical adversary, her wife? For the first part of the story, click here!
Stacey comes over and looks down to a colorful set of six plastic paper plate holders in my hand. She pauses, and begins.
“Sweetheart, we used to have these exact ones and we never used them. And we don’t have any paper plates. You remember – the last time we had paper plates was our wedding six years ago? And paper plate holders aren’t on the list,” she says, pointing to the piece of paper in my hand. A third cash register receipt.
Sailing is a dangerous sport for Heidi Esther. Though she’s recovering from her sorted past, can she now enjoy it? Or will her differences with her wife ruin it for good?For Part 2, the conclusion, click here!
A dozen years ago, this summer, I had an addiction. Toward the end of every week, I’d get excited. Ready for my first hit. The adrenaline high coursing through my veins. I dreamt of it. I knew, as long as I was patient, it would come.
By Friday morning at seven, it was go-time. Sometimes Daddy wasn’t even awake. My two toddlers and I were like quiet and efficient mice. I buckled them into their toddler seats, cranked up the sing-a-long CD, and drove to Dunkin’ Donuts.
My ears wake to a familiar seagull-like whine. I try not to move in bed, as if my complete stillness can make it go away. Nonetheless, the whine continues.
My step-dog Elvis and his strict wake-up time is the cause of much grief in my world. Say there was a thunderstorm for three hours overnight that felt like God was shining a faulty fluorescent light. And, say Elvis was awake in our bedroom for all those hours. He will still wake up at the same time.
I woke up to a familiar, drowsy heaviness in my body. I wanted to roll over. Though it was Saturday, in the middle of June. With the kids at their dad’s and my house clean, it should have felt like Christmas.
But I was depressed.
My mind wanted to get of the hamster wheel of homework for a Career Accelerator I enlisted in after I was let go. I was supposed to write two paragraphs on my strengths and qualities. On my homework sheet, I wrote one word: helper. My other quality, perfect toenails, I knew probably wouldn’t get me a new advancement job.
So, I decided to move my body…
At the Park
I looked up as I lay there. Robin’s-egg blue filled the gaps between feathery evergreen branches. The branches rocked back and forth like a rowboat knocking the pier on a languid day. Sunlight filtered down to me as through a fine muslin curtain. The best day for yoga. I took a long, full-body stretch. My knees, neck, back, and, what was that? my elbow cracked in delight.
Free summer yoga at the park. Every week is a new instructor, which keeps my muscles guessing. And it’s better than sitting around and beating myself up about getting fired. Just me, my mat, and the trees. And about sixty other people. No matter, I inhaled the evergreen scent, and that’s when everything changed.
“Hello friends! Let’s start. My name is Emma, I can’t wait to practice with you today!” Her voice was like popcorn.
I sat straight up and my gaze fixed on a young sprite of a woman. Twinkling eyes, Annie-hair, and a wide Julia-Roberts smile. This woman has ringmaster or stand-up-comedian energy, not yoga-instructor energy. Oh no, I thought, did I get the time wrong?
Emma bubbled, “Today, we’re doing a special kind of yoga, Laughter Yoga. I promise it will get you a cardio workout in a fraction of the time compared to a standard yoga practice. Plus, it’s super fun!”
Emma’s sweeping gestures could keep the attention of any overtired toddler.
“And, yes, it’s not traditional yoga, other than the laying down part at the end. So, if you only want to do regular yoga, you’ll have to come back next week. Everyone else, stand up, and let’s form a circle,” she continued.
About half of the people scowled, picked up their mats, and left. Should I stay or go home to work on my qualities? I paused. I locked concerned eyes with some neighbors. It’s laughter. How hard could it be?
I joined the circle.
“Okay, friends! We’re going to do some exercises to get you laughing. If you don’t think it’s funny, just fake it. Your body will still enjoy the many benefits of laughter. First, we’re going to make some giggle soup.” I scan the circle. This could be embarrassing. At least I don’t know anyone…
“Now, everyone get out your knives, and let’s chop some vegetables…”
We all start air-chopping vegetables. Hmmm, is this what preschool feels like?
“…then let’s pour in some water and shake in some salt and pepper. Now comes the best part: the giggle juice!”
Emma air-mimes the pouring, the shaking, and putting in a couple drops of a secret bottle from her pocket. She is good at this.
“Now, we’re going to stir it, taste it, and….” Emma rolled her fake spoon around like a witch with her brew and made a slurping noise. Giggles came out of her like overflowing milk bubbles. I could not contain myself.
“Hahahaha!!!” erupted my first laugh.
Laughter caught on like wildfire. In less than a blink, we were fake throwing each other giggle soup and adding in belly-laugh peppers. After what seemed like a long time to my stomach muscles, Emma started clapping and shouting a cheer. “Very good. Very good. Yea!” We all chimed in soon after.
“What a great start! Let’s take a break and do some calming breaths before we continue.” She wasn’t kidding about the workout part.
Next, we became pretend roller coasters, Santa Claus, penguins walking, and exchanged laughter greetings. With, of course, cheers and breathing breaks.
Twenty minutes later, I lay on the ground like a happy hamster, looking up at the sky through the feathery branches. Five minutes later, we were all done laughing. Who would have thought it would be so hard to stop laughing?
I drove home in a cloud of happy. I was able to get off the hamster wheel!
The next day, my body recovered, but I still felt lighter.
I felt like I was riding around in Wonder Woman’s invisible plane. It shielded me and brought me the gift of flight. A light, airy, shield. Like, no matter what happened, no matter how I felt today, no matter when I found a job, I was gonna be okay.
One week later, I was still off my depressive hamster wheel and riding around in Wonder Woman’s plane.
One Year later, I was a Certified Laughter Yoga Leader!
I shake my head. Over the next ten minutes, I fill the void of the house with swear words of technological frustration and install the software to see the files. I take a sip from my second cup of coffee, and click on the resume doc, hoping it will load.
The next weekend, I’m sitting at my crowded dining room table. Two stacks of papers, books, and an unopened laptop in front of me, connected to an external drive. Dark-wooded windows, heavy-lidded from the rainy early-Spring weekend afternoon. A tall dark buffet, inches behind my seat, taking up more air. A yellow-checkered Goodwill lamp across the room does nothing to combat the gloom.
I open up the laptop and take a deep breath. I have to leave my job. My hands clench in frustration. I can’t handle my boss anymore, ignoring me and not talking to me. I notice a clenched jaw to go along with the fists, and stretch them both out wide, ready to stretch open to a new job.
“Good morning, Deb. Good morning, Karen. Mornin’ Becky,” my boss says as he racewalks to his office. Various polite versions of Good Morning are said in exchange. He glances at me without saying a word, clutching his coffee. He stops next to my desk, turns his gaze, and peeks into the next office.
Can you guess? Well, they both could be cuddly. Or Colorful. Or a little hole-y. But here’s an answer you may not have guessed: Heather Kokx! This woman crochets chicken sweaters to keep hens safe AND guides you towards your best Y-O-U. As an enneagram coach! Boom, baby.
I’m laying on a patchwork quilt beside a happy little stream where a family of ducks paddles by. Around me are the rolling meadows. Here, the soft grasses are tall, with sweet, little flowers. The early summer sun is gentle and low, yawning and stretching her arms, blanketing a part of the sky in a mellow orange. Which caresses and intertwines fingers with the light blue of the day, like lovers parting.
