I remember that she’s coming for yoga today.

Everything feels tight. I can barely touch my toes in forward fold. That never happens. I am gentle with myself, accepting whatever my body will give me today.

Soft gray light. The chirping of the birds. Just enough chill in the air to make you want to wrap your hands around something warm. Slippers on.

We sit together to work on the problems. I remember coordinates.

He commends me on my patience.

We watch the scrimmage. Hard for me not to yell and get excited. The woman beside me says something about our energy. I tell her that I coached his basketball team a few years ago and he’s acting like he can’t remember anything I taught him.

But team Space Jam is having fun.

More math before corralling the pads and uniforms for tonight’s games.

“I get pickier and pickier the older I get,” I say to him while half-heartedly eating the burger with a plastic knife and fork. “What are we going to do about dinners during football season. I can’t repeat what we did during baseball.”

This is going to be a long season.