ReLiving The Days of Old

I feel it coming. Tennis. It was one of the marking points of my youth. I tried out for the high school team (much to the dismay of my mom and dad who wanted me to try for softball) in tenth grade. Looking back, they might have been right, I probably took the lessons because of my friend, but I found out I was pretty ok at it. The tennis instructor told me I should try out for the team the following school year. I did. I made the team. I made the team every year after that. My senior year I fought hard for my best positions on the team ever at #3 seed for singles and #1 seed for doubles. Loved it all and had so much fun playing. I remember fighting tooth and nail for some of my matches but never being frustrated, always having a blast.

When I went to college here locally, I tried out for the tennis team and made it again. Competition was tougher for that level (even though the school was a small Division 3) but I still got seeded for singles at #6 and for doubles was #3. Trying out for both positions was big stress, and even though I was having fun, this was the first time I remembered being stressed playing tennis. Turns out, it was a distraction for me and my grades suffered. Truth is, I really don't think my heart was ever in school and I probably allowed many things to distract me; unwittingly setting my path away from Education in general. At the time I think I was thinking that the easier path was not to finish school but in the end, (and thank God I had some normal common sense coupled with a small dose of natural quick thinking smarts) the path I ended up taking was the more difficult one; by far. Do I like it that way? Yes. Again, for the millionth time, I digress. I can talk about this some other day. And I will.

I was on tennis, right? Right. We have some close friends who both play tennis. My honey and I have not played in literally ten years. Sad. Really sad. We saw them recently and we all got to talking about tennis and I feel it happening as we are talking....that old feeling, the zingy excited feeling when I think of playing tennis. Flash forward...we are outside playing the other evening, almost dark but not quite totally and we pick up our rackets, old as dirt, strings about to pop from sheer age, and we find some plastic ball and go to town. We cracked the ball. Out in the cul de sac, two grown adults hitting the heck out of the ball having a blast and bam, it cracks. Of COURSE it cracked, good LORD we are hyper competitive and then put us together with a sport we both love and well, you get it. Done. Poor ball.

Tennis here we come. The Littlest is getting a bit older, less super dependant, we can either bring him or leave him with someone (Auntie P or Grammy/Granpa maybe...) and get back into it. I've always loved it and obviously that has not diminished...not one iota. Days of old? Try days of new. ;)

-J