Tennis match

Today, for the first time in -let’s not even try to go there but finish the sentence with- many years, I played tennis. Our family found a nice tennis court near by in the neighborhood, we formed teams and began playing. Our excitement collapsed all need for a warm up as we began. In our own eyes, we played like champions and within minutes we felt the weight of the gold medals around our necks while enjoying the imaginary cheers coming from the imaginary audience near by, too flabbergasted by such an incredible performance.

I pulled a muscle, but what’s a champion without its injuries? We came, we fought, and we conquered.

At home, I pulled out of the freezer a bag of vegetables and happily attached it to my upper thigh where the muscle screamed like a toddler who skipped its nap. But I had a smile on my face. This injury made sense to me. I’ve earned it fair and square and was very proud of it. I hurt because I lived. Not some stupid bug biting me and nearly killing me, then turning me into a walking zombie for years. Noooo, my friends, ┬áthis was the kind of injury you get because I lived and had fun with it. And I plan to do it again:)

My muscle sores have sores, but I smile and keep on tapping this keyboard because I played a tennis match with my family something I didn’t think I would ever get to do, after the nightmare of 2014.

I hope you get a chance to enjoy life in your own way and keep cool because in the Pacific Northwest the real summer has finally arrived:)

God bless:)

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