I Love Yoga

The old lady in yoga looked familiar. She’d lived on Maui she said, and her name was Shifra which means beautiful in Hebrew. Her name resounded in my memory. 

She arrived for yoga class every week with a longhaired dude whose clothes reeked of weed. Another trigger. Forty years ago, a beautiful hippie with flowers in her hair approached me on the beach in Maui. “Bud?” she said and smiled. 

“I think you sold me some weed when I was in Maui,” I told her today. She laughed and reached for me to give me a big hug. I had to stoop over to squeeze her. She whispered in my ear, “I can still sell you some.”