Well, yoga mat. This is a hard goodbye.
We knew it was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
I remember the day I first saw you. You were the perfect parting gift from someone who’d taken care of me for a long time. You were my only strategy for getting over him, and you were up to the task.
We’ve traveled far together (to be honest, you are showing a bit of wear). I’ve unfurled you on beaches and balconies, in island retreats, and city studios. You may be one of the most well-traveled yoga mats out there, but you never got your Instagram account started like I told you to... And now it’s too late.
I’ll admit it: You received about as much sweat as tears. I should have wiped you down more often, and thoroughly. And yes, there was that one time that was really not fun for you—when there was so much bird poop on the deck, I know, I know. But that’s in the past now.
Every room I checked into, you stood there in the corner. Every new city, I arrived there holding onto you. I knew we could work through anything together... And that’s why it’s so hard to say goodbye.
I wish I could be taking you with me. That I could push you through the airport X-rays once more. It’s not that I don’t love you, but I need to move, twist, stretch, arch, bend, extend, and roll onto something new.
As yoga mats go, you’ll always be my first. A little piece of you (which I cut out in the shape of a tiny mat and rolled up) will always be with me.
Thank you for every lesson.