Au lit: le baiser, 1892. By French artist Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec
Dr. Zelinsky opened her office door to find her client upside down in the middle of the room, performing a perfect headstand.
“Hey, Dr. Zee. I started yoga like you suggested. This is my favorite pose. Come join me!”
“Very nice, Brandy. But I prefer my sessions right side up.”
Brandy gracefully descended and went to lounge on the couch, chattering all the while.
“I’ve been to a class every day this week. Who knew there were so many styles? That Jivamukti is too “out there” with all the chanting, and Yin just dragged on and on. But Vinyasa is definitely my groove. Great idea. Do you do yoga?”
Athena did the dishes after dinner and poured herself a glass of wine. She wasn’t sure she was ready but there was no reason to delay any longer. She took a deep breath and opened the envelope. Her eyes glanced over the paragraphs explaining the test and jumped to the results.
He lifted the binoculars, focused the lenses and could just make out her red foul weather jacket, bright against the tiny white triangle of the sail. She headed away from land, away from him, towards the horizon. The ocean was calm and the sunshine cast a path of shimmering diamonds between them, reminding him of the jewelry she left behind.
Amy was early and sat stiffly on the couch. It was her first time seeing a therapist and she wondered if she should lay down.
I took teeny bites of the protein bar as I watched the screen showing my husband’s vital signs. Different colored graphs scrolled by on a continuous roller coaster but no alarms were ringing so I figured things must be stable. His eyes were closed and his breathing was even. I folded the empty wrapper into a small square and put it in my pocket.
“Watch your step!” Wendy shouted, jerking him to the side.
Merry awoke just as the first red bursts of dawn streaked through the shutters and across her white bedspread. It reminded her of blood splatter and she watched the gory hue turn to a bruise of blue and purple and finally the pure, clean brightness of a new day, disappearing into the covers. She felt a shift in the universe and tears pricked her eyes.
When a man gets to a certain age, it is time for him to set out on his own, or at least that is what he tried to tell himself as he readied his boat for the journey. He had been sailing these seas with his father since the day he could walk, he knew them better than he knew the land. Of course, where he was going, he would eventually leave his home waters, and that is where the test of his strength and abilities would come in. 
I’d awoken with a sore throat and a fever, so mother made me stay home. Daddy went to work and my sister left without me to walk the short distance to school with the kids from the block. I spent the morning on the couch bundled up in blankets, engrossed in one of the “Little House on the Prairie” books and sipping ginger ale through a straw from a nearby TV tray. Mother went about her daily housewife routine of making beds, starting a load of laundry, arranging the front window drape pleats, and raking the shag carpet.
It was spring of 1982 and I was months from high school graduation. On the horizon was a summer serving as crew on a 101 ft schooner and the beginning of college in the fall. It was also a dull and dreary day sitting in the teeny boatyard office of the marine electrician where I worked as an assistant after school.
Vivo O Sonho 