Since my divorce, the house feels pretty empty on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and every other Sunday. Without my kids’ grunts, clutter, and the noise from their devices in the house, I needed something to fill the void, so I picked up yoga. During my first visit to the Noblesville studio, the instructor asked my name. When I told her, she lit up. “Do you know Bill Kenley?”
“I do. Bill is my ex-husband,” I told her. Her eyes darted. I jumped in to save her. “Were you a student of his?” I asked brightly.
“No. I’m a teacher at the middle school,” she said, and stopped. She must have been trying to not mention the words “Bill Kenley” again even though they were, at the moment, the only thing that connected us.…
