The Game

I chose to take in some caffeine at 6:30pm today before my basketball game, it is now 11:30pm and I am quite without sleep.  It was the first game of the women's rec season.  We are all in our 30's and we were a bundle of nerves as if we were back in high school waiting to play against our rival.  I love competition.  I love the adrenaline that drives past the nerves.  I was told once when I was young that if you were nervous about something, it meant that whatever it was, was important to you.  I love the game.  I have played since the 7th grade. That's about 25 years.  Let's be real.  I am an average height, average weight, average build, white girl.  I wasn't very good in high school, and I'm not great now.  But I love so much that even at age 37, I can improve my skills, and that my body holds up through it.

It was a close game throughout.  They were good ball players.  But so are we.  Referees pretty much left us alone.  There were a few good hits on both sides.  There were moments of frustration and tension.  It was a game of tug of war as each team tried to focus on their opponents weakness.  For moments, these women became the enemy.  And the lines of kindness, sportsmanship, and admiration for physical ability... are blurred.  Female basketball players are not usually of the gentle mentality. They are driven, competitive, strong, and confident.  I love these qualities in myself and in my teammates.  These are also qualities that if left unchecked, can become a stumbling block to friendship and to personal growth.  So, while there were a few good hits, some purposeful fouling, likely blood, sweat, and hopefully no tears, I am proud to be part of a team who also, helps the opposition up, apologizes when a foul is too hard, and holds their tongue when frustration bubbles toward the surface.  These are the traits that make a woman great.  And the women I play with are great.

Yes, we won.  46-41

Life's game of Hide and Seek

Life has a way of moving on whether we are ready or not.  It's kind of like the hide and seek game we used to play when we were kids.  Once someone started counting you felt the need to turn and run, the counting always seemed to go too fast, and before we knew it, we were being sought for.  So it has been for the last month, since Janna passed.  Life seems to always be counting, seeking and trying to come for us.  So, we must run.  Check off our lists, follow our schedules, live our lives, find our way.  I can hardly believe a month has passed.  It was a few weeks after the funeral before my brain slowed down enough to let my heart catch up and remind my body that it was still housing a broken heart.  Sunday was tough.  Everything reminded me of her.  Every song, everywhere I looked, each activity.  I am at odds with the idea that it is healthy to mourn, and that moving forward in life is exactly what we should do.  It seems like a betrayal. Sadness was the opposite of what Janna wanted for us.  Somehow, I think she understands our grief.  And so, I have begun to look forward, move forward, and live in gratitude for each day, and the the time I had with her.