Once a year I'm off with the girls. Leaving Miss A. and Miss M. under the competent and caring supervision of my beloved husband.
I pack a weekend bag, dig out my stick and sun lotion and dive into a weekend that will leave me with a huge muscle ache and an array of scratches and bruises. A weekend that never fails to bring back the joy and fun I have when I'm playing hockey.
Oh yes, that small ball surely is hard. So is a hockey stick. And the synthetic turf too, by the way. But the fun of being part of a team and the quick game never tire. Sitting in the sun between matches with a drink and a bunch of giggling girl friends helps too. So does a drive with a Bahama blue old MG, roof top open. A night of dancing. A handful of new anecdotes to add to our team records. The bantering with the other teams. Good for body and soul.
If I only would have bought my new hockey shoes half a size bigger. That would have made things perfect. But I should know after all these years: Sport is suffering but satisfying!
I will try to get up from my seat now and stumble to bed. Next year I'll do some running, to get fit beforehand. Really.