Tap-dancing on the Surface of the Sun

I love the desert. Bend in Oregon. Palm Springs in Southern California. I don’t discriminate. It may just be that I love a swimming pool and wide blue skies with swaying palm trees and dry heat. As I write this I am poolside in Southern California during an unusual heatwave. It is over 100 degrees and it isn’t even noon yet. I try to read and sweat is rolling from my forehead into my eyes making it impossible. So much for the mascara. Do you know how much sunscreen burns when it gets under your contacts? I feel like that Sunday comics character, Cathy, “ACK!” My pool towel even looks like a comic strip died.

I remind myself I am grateful for this last soccer tournament with a mixture of elation and sadness bordering on grief. The sweat and burning contacts hide the tears that slip out as I reflect on thirteen years of commitment. Like many of you, my oldest son loves sports. We engaged him at a young age as a way to make friends with similar interests and backgrounds. Plus, he had a natural ability and desire. He excelled in soccer especially and just like that, thirteen years later with college offers and numerous state titles, he has decided its time to step away.

His decision has had a profound impact on me. Many of Craig and I’s dearest friends were discovered on the sidelines of the pitch. Our family trips have been scheduled around tournaments. We’ve explored new towns and experienced new things when travelling with the team. We never missed a chance to watch him play. I have a special part of my wardrobe dedicated to rain games, snow games, cold games and sunny hot games. It is really an art form to be prepared for any and all of these scenarios and sometimes more that one in the same game. The finality of our son’s choice will dramatically change our priorities and free up a ton of space in my closet. 

I have recognized our deep commitment to his soccer career and over time Craig and I have acknowledged the investment and made small adjustments to achieve equity for our non-soccer playing son. This small change gave me a glimpse of what was to come, thus my elation referenced earlier. Weekends will be incredibly open. My friends are going to be so annoyed with my calls! 

Change this dramatic feels like tap dancing on the surface of sun. (I could restructure this analogy for snow but because my poor body is dripping, the sun is more relevant.) If you keep moving, you don’t notice how much you’re impacted – week days and weekends consumed with games, practices, tournaments, etc. As you slow down or stop, you are overwhelmed. I am overwhelmed. I know I can’t have it both ways forever. I can hear my grandmother’s voice in my head, “It goes by so quickly.” Thanks, Grandma.  Is this an, “I told you so,” from heaven? It kind of feels like an “I told you so.”

The last game came and went. I cried because I am a nerd like that, my husband made fun of me for crying and we walked off the pitch together for the last time. Just like that, there is no more tap dancing on the sun. The titanic shift took place without fanfare, ceremony or finality. It just simply faded away with three blows of a whistle. 

The sun has set on our supporting role as parents of an elite athlete. I haven’t started cleaning out my closet yet. I think will save that task for now. And yes, it does go by so quickly.