grow up and play

Volleyball. Unimportant, friendly local game. Nerves, nevertheless. Pacing the corridors before the game, worrying about a cramping muscle, checking for the fifteenth time that the water bottle is filled.

She forgets to be her usual fearful, take-no-risks woman and throws herself on the floor and against walls to save the ball.

Normally shy and wary of drawing attention, she nevertheless blocks out the spectators and yells, laughs, and swears under her breath. Not afraid of being the tall one, the dangerous one near the net. Not shy to show off bare legs even though they cannot compete with those of the teenage bambi on the other side of the court.

Open, loud joy when the team succeeds. Makes a face when she completely misses an easy ball but shrugs and concentrates on the next. Graciously accepts good advice from the more experienced. Savours the triumph of getting an applause of her own. Hates the opposing team but forgives them and shakes hands afterwards.

If I learn to laugh and yell out loud, to deal with nerves, to accept criticism and defeat, to make friends, to give everything and in return feel the full force of life here and now... then it doesn't really matter that we lost that game.