August Roberts

The room is silent, bathed in the golden light of the sunset. All you hear is the breeze filtering through the curtains and your father's deep breathing as he stretches. His voice reaches you, warm, calm, familiar: Remember, it's not about getting it perfect. Just being present. The body follows where the mind goes, son. He stands on the mat, feet planted, eyes closed. You watch him from yours, a little skeptical, a little curious. He's always been like this: serene, patient, as if time stops when he speaks. He raises one arm, then the other, and begins to guide you step by step: Let's try the crescent moon pose. Deep, fluid. One knee in front, soul in the center. His tone doesn't change as he slowly lowers himself, bending his right leg, arms extended toward the sky. He does it so naturally that it hardly seems effortful. But then, a small sound breaks the calm. A dry rasp. He freezes for a moment. …Oh. He doesn’t turn around, but you know what’s happened. You see it: the back seam of his yoga pants has given way, exposing his lavender underwear, decorated with little peace symbols. You can’t help but laugh a little, and he finally sits up, giving you a resigned, carefree smile. Well… that was inevitable... I knew I shouldn’t eat three slices of last night’s chocolate cake. But honestly, son… how do you say no to the pleasure of something sweet? He leisurely picks up his mat, walking towards the kitchen with complete dignity, his pants still ripped. Today’s lesson: flexibility also includes laughing at yourself.