Is That Me?

Yesterday was cold and gray with a bitter Kansas wind that made it seem even colder and grayer. It was the perfect Sunday to stay inside and drink hot coffee and lay on the couch and watch mindless television all day. I forced myself to go to church, came home and went for a walk, and then snuggled in on my couch with my doggies tucked around me and my fleece blanket. I was more than content not to budge for the rest of the day, but then I remembered a promise I had made ... a promise to a little kid, and everyone knows that you can never break a promise to a kid. So in the late afternoon, I hauled my body off the couch, got in my car and drove to the soccer fields.

I've written in previous posts about my current state of hermitude, of it taking every ounce of energy I possess to be around people, much less having to carry on a conversation, and of how if I had a choice I would never leave the solitude of my home. As I pulled into the parking lot that held literally hundreds of cars, my first thought was, "I just want to go home." But ... I made a promise to a little girl who means the world to me ... a promise that I had to keep. I took a deep breath as I got out of my car and began to walk toward the field where her game was scheduled, thinking maybe I could just slip in behind the crowd of parents and not have to talk to anyone. As fate would have it ... no, that's not right ... as God would have it, the little gal's mom spotted me as I was walking down the path and met me and started chatting, asking me about Meghann's upcoming wedding. After a few minutes, another lady walked up and my friend became engaged in a conversation with her ... and that's when it happened ... one of those blink-of-an-eye moments that seem so small when they occur, but that in retrospect are actually quite huge.

Looking to see where my friend's youngest kiddo was, I saw him down the hill a bit kicking around a soccer ball by himself ... remember those words, by himself ... I'll come back to them in a bit. Since the game before the one I had come to watch was running late, I made a snap decision to go ask the little guy if he wanted me to kick the ball with him. His eyes lit up as he said, "Certainly!" and we spent the next half-hour or so kicking the ball back and forth. He is a great little soccer player, so he gave this old gal quite the workout. When his sister's game began, we walked up the hill to watch her play, and he said, "Terrie, that was fun!" So much fun for him that before the girls' game ended, he coaxed me into kicking the ball with him on the sidelines, with him stating that we were going to take turns "defending the trash can" as the goal.

The enormity of that hour and a half didn't strike me until I was driving home, and it didn't completely wash over me until I was sitting on my couch eating dinner. When I looked down the hill and saw the little boy playing alone, my natural instinct was to go offer to play with him. Why? Because I love him, and it made me sad to see him kicking the ball all by himself. Tears dripped onto my plate as I realized how by myself I am now, how I work and walk and eat and drive and live by myself ... and ... and ... and ... how rarely I play anymore. With each bite of food I tried to choke down, the tears poured from my eyes. 

As I stood to take my plate into the kitchen, I realized something else ... I had laughed while I kicked the soccer ball. I didn't just grin or smile or chuckle a little ... I flat out laughed out loud. Quite honestly, I can't remember the last time I laughed. Standing at my sink, one thought flooded my mind ... today at the soccer field was a fleeting moment, a glimpse, a flicker of who I used to be ... carefree, laughing, happy, enjoying the simplicity of the moment and a little child's contagious spirit of fun. Until the last year of my life, I always felt that was who I was ... a person of caring, a person of service, a person of laughter, a person of spontaneity, a person of strength, a person of giving. Most days now, I have no idea who I am, where I'm going, what I'm supposed to be doing. But yesterday on the soccer field, I felt like me again ... if only for a little while, I felt like me ... no somberness, no sadness, no sobbing ... for a little while ... I laughed.

So here's to little girls and boys ... kiddos who share a little bit of their hearts with an old gray-haired gal, kiddos who don't stop inviting, kiddos who keep on hugging, kiddos who don't see the scars or the pain or the sadness, kiddos who find the laughter. Here's to kiddos who love ... and kick soccer balls.