Page 88 of More Than a Hero
As she pulled up to Careway Senior Apartments, her group was already gathering on the curb. She climbed out and opened the side door, helping each one aboard with practiced ease. Mr. George peered at her from the passenger seat, fiddling with his hearing aid. “This is the big van. Everything all right?”
Angie gave him a reassuring smile. “Just a change of plans. The kids are joining us for yoga tonight.”
Ms. Hannah clapped delightedly. “Oh, how wonderful! It’s about time they saw what we get up to!”
Mr. Marty grumbled something unintelligible but gave a sly grin. “We’ll see if they can keep up.”
Angie chuckled as she pulled out onto the road, taking the scenic back route toward the pickup spot. As she approached the familiar lot, she saw the boys waiting, their lanky frames casting long shadows in the fading light. They hopped on board with easy smiles and quick greetings, immediately buckling themselves in like they’d done it a hundred times.
Jalen leaned forward slightly. “Mr. Pete messaged us. Said you were picking us up.” With a curious tilt of his head, he asked, “Who’s gonna watch us in the gym?”
“You’ll be joining us for chair yoga,” Angie said, glancing into the rearview mirror just in time to catch their wide-eyed expressions.
“Chair yoga?” Mike asked, like she’d just told him they were going ballroom dancing with nuns.
From behind him, Ms. Rosetta chimed in, her tone dry but amused. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
Inside the YMCA, Angie led the group through the familiar halls, the kids accompanying the older adults with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. The room they entered was flooded with late afternoon light, airy and welcoming, the scent of lavender diffusers lingering in the air. Rows of sturdy chairs replaced traditional yoga mats.
The boys looked around, surprise on their faces. Rasheem eyed the setup with a skeptical frown. “So… we just sit there?”
A low chuckle came from Mr. Bertram. “Oh, you’ll see.”
The instructor walked into the room. She was a petite woman with silver-white hair pulled back in a neat bun, her posture impossibly elegant. She carried herself with a graceful calm, her presence soft but commanding.
“Angie!” she greeted warmly, eyes sparkling as she took in the newcomers. “And today, you brought reinforcements?”
Angie grinned. “Change of plans. Think you can handle a few extra limbs in the room?”
The instructor gave a theatrical sigh, then smiled. “Absolutely. The more, the merrier.”
As the boys grabbed chairs and settled in beside their grandparent matches, Angie watched with a full heart. It was one of her favorite sights—these little blended families being stitched together by kindness and time.
The instructor clapped her hands, calling the class to order. “Let’s start with a few deep breaths. In through the nose… and out through the mouth.”
A hush fell over the room as everyone followed her lead. Eyes closed, chests rising and falling in unison. An occasional snort or chuckle erupted from the boys, but they soon got into the rhythm.
Darius peeked one eye open and whispered, “So far, so easy.”
Angie pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh.
Soon, they were rolling their necks, stretching their shoulders, and reaching their arms up and over in a slow wave of movement. The boys fidgeted at first, glancing sideways at their elder counterparts for cues. But when the instructor called for lifted legs and firm posture, things got real.
“Whoa,” Curly muttered, wobbling in his chair. “This is harder than it looks.”
“Balance is key,” Mr. Harold offered, lifting his leg with slow, practiced control. “Use your core.”
“Core?” Kyron echoed, eyes narrowed.
“Your middle,” Mr. Marty explained, patting his own stomach. “Muscles in your belly and back. That’s where your strength comes from.”
Jimmy wasn’t about to be left behind. He sat up straighter, bracing himself and lifting one leg with exaggerated precision. “Like this?”
Ms. Hannah clapped. “Look at that! You’re a natural!”
The class moved on with a rhythm all its own. There were moments of serious effort—gritted teeth, trembling limbs—and just as many bursts of laughter. Mr. Bertram stole the show with a dramatic Utkatasana that had half the class giggling, only for him to wink when he said, “That was my fierce pose!”
The other boys declared they also wanted to try it, each making a concerted effort. By the time they reached the final stretch, Angie’s muscles were tingling. She leaned back in her chair, turning slightly, and paused.
