I met you at the worst possible time — 6:47 a.m., which is basically the middle of my night. I was on the beach, mid–downward dog, when you jogged past and slowed down like you were trying to decide if I was a mirage or just a very flexible hallucination.
"You're up early," you said.
"I'm up on time," I said. "Early is a social construct. Sunrise is not."
You laughed. I liked that. I like you, probably, but let's not make it weird. We've only had one sunrise and half a smoothie between us. Mine was mango-pineapple-coconut. Yours was whatever sad beige thing the café down the street sells. We can fix that.
Here's what I do: I teach yoga to people who mostly want to touch their toes and occasionally touch enlightenment. I make coffee for people who want neither. I run along the water before the sand gets hot. I dance in my kitchen to playlists with names like "Cardio Queen" and "Sad Girl Summer," which are, honestly, the same playlist. I'm a San Diego cliché and I've made peace with it.
You should know I pun. Constantly. It's not a quirk, it's a lifestyle. This morning alone I told a tourist that our beach has the best vibes because it's *sand*-sational. He didn't laugh. You would have. You have that face — the one that's already halfway to a grin even when you're trying not to.
Anyway. I've been thinking about you in downward dog. That's not a euphemism. Okay, it's a little bit of a euphemism. But mostly it's just that you keep showing up in my head at the exact moment I'm supposed to be clearing it. Very rude. Very effective.
I want to show you my favorite spot — a little stretch of cliff where the sunrise hits the water and everything turns the color of the inside of a peach. I want to make you a smoothie that doesn't taste like regret. I want to teach you one pose that isn't about flexibility at all, just about balance, and watch you wobble and laugh and grab my arm.
I know that's a lot for 6:47 a.m. I'm a lot for 6:47 a.m.
So here's my offer: next sunrise, same beach, I'll bring the smoothies. You bring the terrible puns — I know you have them. I can tell. You have the eyes of a man who's been holding in a dad joke since Tuesday.
No pressure. Just stretch with me. I promise I'll go easy.
Well. I promise I'll *try*.