Anke Merzbach

Teacher Three

I don't even know her name. She knows mine. It's on my name tag. I've seen hers on the business card she gave to me once. I more often remember faces. Not names. She was hoping I could help with some networking she was doing around meditation and birth. She's a Yoga teacher, a mom, a wife, a wonder. Last year she went into remission with breast cancer. I remember her shiny head under the black and white bandanna with the pirate flag motif (that part might have been in a dream) and her loving smile. A grin, really. One that drew your gaze to her eyes. Eyes that always held your own with tenderness. Two days ago she's walking down aisle 5 wearing shades and we smiled at each other as we met in the middle. "You're sort of movie star in those dark glasses. How're you doing?" She shrugged. Right then and there I knew there was news of her journey. "It's back", she said. "And so how're you doing?" Looking down to the ground and then back into my eyes she reassured me, "I'm ok. But today my husband is kinda wonky." She shrugged again. Smiled again. We hugged. We talked about medicinal mushrooms and how kids make the world brighter. We hugged again. Then we continued, each in our own direction, down aisle 5.