Matriculate

yoga_matriculate

matriculate

  1. to enroll in a college or university as a candidate for a degree.
  2. to register (a coat of arms), used especially in Scottish heraldry.
  3. to be matriculated

The studio was hot and humid. Even with the fans going, it wasn’t enough to quell the July heat.

Agnes looked at her reflection. Even with her hair in a high bun, loose tendrils stuck to her sweaty neck. Growing up Agnes learned that genteel Southern women never sweated, they always glowed, a talent she didn’t possess. Agnes Miller sweated like a pig that was about to be roasted on a spit.

She bent down to pick up her mat, wincing as her hamstrings tightened. Regular workouts were something she was getting better at doing, but she needed to make the same effort with her stretching if she was going to have any chance of aging gracefully.

Agnes carried her roll mat under one arm and slung her bag over her shoulder as she exited the studio doors. The warm breeze was a welcome relief; it felt cool against her brow. The morning sunlight was strong enough to cause her to put her sunglasses on to help her see. She caught a view of the men waiting on the porch at the community poolhouse adjacent to the studio.

One of the things that had attracted her to Villa Bella was its amenities. The pool, sauna, massage therapists and close proximity to medical professionals made it an easy choice. However, being on the west side of the beautiful community had its disappointments–namely the young immature cat callers.

She instinctively rolled her eyes behind her glasses. They sat there almost every day, waiting for women to exit class before starting their barrage of comments.

“Looking good, Agnes!”

“Agnes, when are you going to give me a date? I’ve been waiting longer than anyone else and I may not have that much time left to wait on you.”

She ignored them now. Once she had hurled her water bottle at the group, narrowly missing their heads, displaying her great left arm she’d honed while playing baseball as a child. The director had come to visit her and have a short conversation about insubordination and community policies. Agnes had endured the conversation, but was still annoyed.

She was hoping to matriculate to the Villa Bella East with the older men. Although the numbers were smaller, she heard the men were more mature, albeit slower with their walkers, canes, and wheelchairs, but mature.

Hoisting her mat higher under her arm, Agnes flashed her new glass water ball. The chatter died down as she walked past the group, the sunlight bouncing of her bottle. In a month she would have her 70th birthday and be able to apply for a place Villa Bella East.

 

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