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"Time", by Susana Laborde-Blaj

On time for my 7 am class at Imagine, I cross A Ave exactly at the same time that a man crosses it walking in the opposite direction. I think he’s pretty shy. When I say “Hi!” three times a week, he bows and vaguely smiles. This has been going for a few months.

The word yoga means “to link”, so it basically implies relationship. My breath, my spine, the air around, muscles and bones, joints, awareness, connective tissue, and also the connective tissue between everything: the cosmos, planets, the moon, the earth, plants and animals, water in the planet, force of gravity, atmospheric pressure, family, community, mothers & fathers, daughters and sons, neighbors, partners, friends, enemies, thoughts, actions, feelings, emotions, food, music, voice, poetry, and pretty much every word/meaning linked to every word/meaning, always, all the time.

The bus driver, Remy, will no longer drive this route. Trimet designates a new driver every 3 months. My son and I may see him again though, since Remy thought of sharing his phone number with us.

I got a bit emotional saying goodbye yesterday, but only after I got off the bus. These things keep reminding me of impermanence. When I walked to shake his hand, Remy took his glove off and produced a broad smile that probably contained the whole universe.

Am I taking this moment for granted? As I write in this computer I can hear the sound of my husband typing on his, I hear the murmur of the TV and a whispering that may be a truck in the street, the furnace, or time passing by. I’m wearing new soft socks that a dear friend gave me for my 55th birthday.

The heat kicks on, that noise was the furnace. Time passes silently by.

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