inch worm

Beshert | Inching Out of a Pandemic

It’s that time of year in Texas when walking down the sidewalk or over a knot of roots or down a driveway has us weaving through caterpillars, dangling midair from strings. There I’ll be, typing away on my laptop in the backyard when a caterpillar drops into my tea, curling into a sad little ball. There I’ll be, helping my kid down the slide when a caterpillar drops onto my shoulder, hitching a ride to a pile of green leaves. They are acrobats, twisting on invisible webs in the wind. They inch across rocks, in movements that spark an internal monologue of a Jewish yoga instructor leading a Zoom flow class: “Tushy high! Tushy low. Tushy high! Tushy low.”  After the workout has been suitably endured (“Inchworms! Today is when you put in the work for a...

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