Movement

Every morning during the week I wake up to my screeching alarm. My head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls. I never want to get out of bed, so I hit snooze, over and over, until I can no longer put off getting up for Barre class. I’m so groggy, I can’t focus, but I don’t drink coffee. I can’t. If I drink coffee before class, all the water I drink will run right through me, and I don’t want to interrupt the flow of the class by going to the bathroom even once. I drink a glass of water, eat a handful of nuts, and head out.

My walk to the studio is the second best part of this routine, besides the class itself. I love the feel of gentle breezes that caress my face in the morning’s cool air. The sun overhead, not yet blazing, feels good on my face. I watch the butterflies gently flutter around me while I admire the bright pink, red, and yellow Bougainvillea flowers gracefully draped over the sides of buildings.

I see the studio in the near distance and I glance at the my phone. It’s about the fifth time I’ve checked it since leaving my apartment. It’s a compulsion now, checking to make sure I arrive early and never on time - that would make me officially late. Class begins promptly at 8am, and there’s a lot involved in getting ready before we start. I need 10 minutes to get it all done. 

Finally, I arrive at the studio and step out of my sandals, leaving them outside. The cold air of the air conditioner feels good on my skin. I step on the squishy mat placed at the studio entrance. My bare feet sink down into it as the air escapes from the weight of my body. The feeling is contrasted by the cold and hard ceramic floor I step on next. I sit and gently clean my feet, inhaling the sweet baby powder scent of the wipes and then pull the snug fitting Barre socks over my feet. The grips under the socks stick to the tile as I walk the short distance to the exercise mat in the center of the room. Still groggy, I watch as everyone makes small talk. I listen but rarely participate. I simply don’t have the brain cells at the moment to speak. The music begins. I inhale and begin to move my body as I follow our instructor. Though initially my body feels stiff and rigid, it begins to loosen up after the first set of exercises, Beads of sweat appear on my forehead. My entire body feels warm. I continue to move up and down as I plie and point my toes, hold squats, and push my muscles just a tiny bit more as I lift weights above my head.  Fifty minutes later the class ends. The cool down stretching routine always feels like the sweetest reward for a job well done.

I spend the rest of my time in the studio peeling off my socks, sticky with sweat, freeing my feet from their confinement (if they could thank me, they would). We all chat for a few minutes before heading out to our respective homes. My smile is wide and genuine. I’m chatty. I often feel so drunk on endorphins, I’m tempted to give everyone sloppy kisses and tell them how much I love them - like I did when I was wasted on vodka or way too much beer. But I refrain. I don’t want to seem weird.

I return to my apartment, ready to begin my day. I’m focused, energized, and happy.

At the end of my day I congratulate myself for getting out of bed, for getting myself to Barre every morning, in spite of the endless hours I spend, while others slumber away, staring up at the wall instead of sleeping. Josh Is always on my mind, but at night, thoughts of him fill the room. I can almost hear his laugh. But then the silence begins to feel unbearable. Some nights I wonder if I will ever see a glimpse of him somewhere in the shadows, smiling his big, beautiful smile. Wishful thinking. At some point, well into the middle of the night, I fall asleep and slip into the sweetest dreams where Josh’s life continues and we’re reunited, if only for a short while, before the screeching sound of my alarm wakes me up again.