...between foolishness and fear.
You got enough courage to get you there but when you realize what will happen next cowardice takes a hold. You scream but keep going, like on the summit of a roller coaster; you can't stop now but oh, shit.
That was me tonight playing hockey, skating toward the big defenseman on the point when I know she's winding up for a slap shot. I know because she already hit me once in the skate on my last shift. Hard enough for me to mutter, "Mother F..."
But not hard enough to make me fall. The puck bounced foreword and I chased it down hoping to score. I didn't. Didn't even catch the puck. But I tried.
This second time I should have known better. Should have asked myself is it really worth it? Do I really need to put my body between the goal and that hard rubber puck that she's about to blast my way? We were up 5-0 and there was only ten seconds left.
Ten seconds.
What would it matter if they scored, really?
But you see, you don't stop skating till the final whistle blows. Not if you're an Everett. Not if you're born with competitive genes. Not the skinny-gene type of competitive that wants to be better than everyone else but the work-horse-genes that just wants to push yourself harder each time. Wants to push your body till it almost breaks but doesn't.
Wants to leave everything on the ice so when you return to the locker room you never think, "If I only tried harder.."
Wants to take one for the team.
Like a big ole bruise between my shin and my calf because I still skated at that strong defenseman, not wanting her to get a shot on net, even with ten seconds left, but I screamed and turned as she drew her arms back, not nearly as brave as I think I am, exposing the part of my leg not protected by pads.
Perhaps I should write that again: Not nearly as brave as I think I am.
Caution creeps in with age and I'm not so young anymore. Turned forty this year. And I'm a Mom.
A Mother Bear full of bravado but I still want to return whole to my kids. I need to return whole to my kids.
I may charge but its a bit of a bluff these days. Where after a game you'll find me limping home, sneaking into Elias and Olive's rooms so I can kiss them goodnight.
Where everything I write somehow returns to them.
Even a story about hockey where for three blissful periods I am not Mama or Mommy.
I am not even Mom.
(Oh, but I am.)
Never lose that fighting spirit. It is what makes you...you! Your kids have it too. What a blessing that is in this crazy world of ours. Glad you won another game even if you are limping a bit.
Posted by: fleming | 02/25/2013 at 05:40 AM
only you. . .
Posted by: jess | 02/26/2013 at 07:15 PM
Love!
Hockey=life
Posted by: greta | 02/26/2013 at 08:27 PM