Week 6: After Practice

The sun hangs in the orange sky, reclining on the treetops. Beneath the treetops are the hard paved streets in the fading evening haze. A school is basking in the orange glow; adjacent is a field of dirt of similar color – a diamond field surrounded by living grass. Amid the chirping summer insects quieting before their voices go to sleep, there are the sounds of people packing up bags in a cool, cement cave. Their clothes are dusty with dirt and their shoes stained green. Their cottony feet are fresh out of hot shoes into breezy sandals. Each breath invigorates them with as much oxygen as they could desire. Their hearts are sore, yet ready to pump quickly at a moment’s notice. Their stomachs are empty bowls, excitedly awaiting a warm meal. Their muscles feel sore, praising them for a job well done. The sound of their happy goodbyes echo moderately through the surrounding neighborhood, bouncing off of the front doors of houses until they fade into the peaceful summer day.

Their years are few, their futures full of hope. Their minds are free of worries, their social tanks are full. Their competitive natures have been satisfied in a wholesome way. One gazes at the sun and the treetops, and contemplates life. Why do we even exist, anyway? The thought stirs wonder and fantasy. Then memories of friendship, affection, and laughter come to mind. People who matter come to mind. That person who seems to put a spring in one’s step comes to mind.

The sun and treetops come back into focus, the sky extending into the universe. The person feels very small, but important nonetheless—aware of the joy of friendship that comes from a handful of people out of a bounty of individuals. The crackling sound of pavement as cars exit the parking lot tickles their ears, and their feet have dutifully walked them to their metal contraption. The steel bumpy-edged key is inserted into the crevasse. Before getting in, a last glance at the sky is taken, and eyes close to absorb the tranquility. Rumbling noise breaks loose as the ignition ignites, and the experience settles in to the deep pages of the memory, safe and sound.