Now, at sixty-two, I teach a small yoga class for women over fifty. It’s less about flexibility and more about strength — the kind you build when life breaks and you rebuild it yourself. We stretch, breathe, and talk about the art of staying open without surrendering your boundaries.
Sometimes, one of my students asks, “Do you still believe in love after all that?”
Every night before bed, I still make myself a glass of warm water with honey and chamomile. Only now, I pour it myself.
I raise it to my reflection and whisper, “Here’s to the woman who finally woke up.”
