With My People
Toss garments into a bag, grab the knitting, the book, the library loans, the planner & journal, and the iPad. Load it all into the truck and hit the icy, winter-stormy road to watch one boy's team play regional basketball (and another boy's 3200m race) for one to three days, depending on the wins and losses. At the last minute, I intentionally left my computer behind.
Because, sometimes, in the thick of purpose and planning and working, no matter where you are, you have to pause, reconsider, and choose the people time that's there in front of you. Take the things along that feel like play, like refreshment, like fun, and leave the work behind (I knew you'd understand!)
So we went, parent & parent, with one boy in tow. We visited about everything and nothing in the open time of the days. We walked hand-in-hand. From the cooler, we made three sandwiches for lunch, and wondered at how we could possibly be in the stage of life where we only had one boy with us in our hotel room. One boy to go to the pool with, one boy to take to the restaurant at dinner. We remembered all three of those boys, much littler, and hotel-excited, all three wanting to push the elevator buttons, use the key card, jump on the beds.
One loss, then a win, and another loss (and the other boy taking second place in the race). Crowds cheering, players battling, sweating, scoring, defending, seeing who could make it to state. Parents and grandparents proudly wearing colors, watching their no-longer-little guys doing all the things, from scoring points to passing out water bottles, and being so, so proud of them.
During the long ride home, once again, we had that familiar middle-deep voice coming from the back seat. We'd missed it. Good to hear him tell the random thoughts from the weekend that popped into his mind as the miles ticked by: he'd remembered to brush his teeth; he and teammates had gotten locked inside their hotel room and had to get out by climbing out a window and down a ladder; he couldn't believe that crazy call made by the ref; just like that, he said, basketball was over for the seniors.
I was there, with my people, in the moments.
Wishing you a lovely week's beginning, friends!
