LITMIR.BIZ

      Fall in Seattle never disappointed Poppy Summerall. The air around Puget Sound felt crisp and clear as it tickled the leaves of the dense foliage all around the Pacific Northwest. The leaves on the trees showed off, trumpeting their colors in a visual symphony of deep orange and burning red and shocking gold.

      Kids around the area had already headed back to school. The salmon in the local streams had begun to jump their way back to the waters they’d once called home. And fall festivals began to set up operations, full of apples and corn and pumpkins.

      Poppy considered pumpkins to be her favorite. She loved them not just because they signaled the warmth and joy of spending time with family for the upcoming holiday season. They also reminded her of the fun and silliness of Halloween, of costumes and pretend, of candy and cookies. They reminded her of a time in her childhood that wasn’t tainted with the heartbreak of her parents’ divorce. Halloween had always been a moment on the calendar where she could indulge her free spirit and just be.

      Halloween got Poppy. It knew everyone just needed a time for fun in their lives.

      Halloween understood that no one could be serious all the time.

      Poppy knew that, too. Unfortunately, adulting and paying bills on time and all the other things that signaled membership in the ranks of being a grown-up didn’t always respect Poppy’s need to be her own person, or her struggles to find her own way.

      Her mind wandered as she brought her yoga class to the heart of their day’s practice. Why couldn’t things be like Halloween and yoga—fun, accompanied by a chance to go with the flow?

      “Good, everybody. Full plank. Good. Belly towards your spine. And now we’re going to lower down and come up into what I like to call…ssssssssnake.”

      Poppy touched her stomach and chest to her mat, then tucked her elbows beside her and pushed her torso upwards. No one laughed at her slithering reptile impression.

      Didn’t anyone have fun anymore?

      She decided to ignore the slightly confused stares from the attendees of the yoga class dotted around the grass in front of her. “There’s this great yoga word for this pose…but I can’t remember what it is. It kinda sounds like a sneeze. It’s like…asnasnanataaaa…aaahnnnnaaaaanana.”

      A voice came from the front row as Poppy pulled up to one knee, then lifted her arms to the puffy white clouds above.

      “Anjaneyasana.”

      “Anjaneyasana!” Of course. That was it. Poppy couldn’t believe she hadn’t been able to remember it. For all her thoughts about silliness the last few minutes, forgetting that crazy yoga word took the cake. “Thank you, Mrs. Klemmer.”

      “And you have to make sure you keep your knee over your ankle, so you don’t damage your patella,” Mrs. Klemmer continued.

      Really, Mrs. Klemmer sounded so much better at this gig than Poppy.

      Poppy loved the freedom of yoga, but the instruction part—the part where you had to make sure everyone and everything was lined up right—that always felt difficult. She couldn’t just be while teaching yoga. She had to be on. As she thought about it, Poppy began to realize that maybe teaching these yoga classes in the park wasn’t going to be the career path for her. These students deserved someone who was committed to their instruction, someone whose strength was in deepening their practice. Poppy loved yoga and she loved being out here teaching, but she questioned everything these days. Even what she was doing right this moment.

      What if Poppy’s biggest concern was to get some exercise outside while breathing the fresh fall air—not thinking about patellas? What would that mean for these folks? Suddenly, Poppy’s mind began to whirl.

      “Oh.” She beckoned Mrs. Klemmer up to the front mat. “Do you want to come up and show us?”

      Mrs. Klemmer’s graying ponytail jiggled slightly at the nape of her neck as she nodded and jogged up to where Poppy was standing.

      “Great.” Poppy stepped aside and watched as the older woman knelt low into the pose, then stretched each arm tall alongside her ears.

      She looked precise. She looked focused. She looked like a real yoga teacher.

      “Knee. Over. The. Ankle. Arms up in the air. Anjaneyasana.” She leaned forward, swooping down to rest her hands lightly on the mat before transitioning into the next pose. “Warrior two.”

      Mrs. Klemmer showed the poise of a true yogi.

      In comparison, Poppy felt more like Yogi Bear.

      “Um…Mrs. Klemmer?” Poppy dropped her voice to a whisper as Mrs. Klemmer continued through the salutation.

      “Yeah?” The older woman never broke stride.

      “You’re very good at this. Do you want to take over the class?”

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