And if I finish taking rest by 8:20 and leave the shala by 8:30, the following events are almost guaranteed to unfold, with graceful regularity:
-As I turn north on a residential street near the shala, an old Italian lady is walking her white maltese on leash, heading south. Both look slightly rumpled, but eager and happy.
-As I ride up the side street next to the grocery store, I will see one of my youth yoga students waiting on the sidewalk. Her mother coaxes her little brother out of his booster seat. The child cranes her neck around, looking for my orange mat bag and grins when she spots me.
-As I turn east into my own neighbourhood, my two gaybours with their young twin sons are walking west to school. Each man holds a child's hand and the little boys skip, swing and hop their way down the sidewalk, crackling with energy.
-When I approach my front door, the fourth floor neighbour is walking out with his bicycle. I hold the door for him, then he holds the door for me. We nod politely to one another.
-And finally, Princess Fur and I go to the park for our morning walk. We always see the white-haired lady wearing a denim shirt, walking her golden retriever.
For the past three days, these events have occurred, one after the other, so predictably that I'm a little freaked out by it. But I'm also comforted.
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