Picture your typical playground- a large, aged blacktop cluttered with patterns and scuffs adorning the back side of an elementary school. Jungle gyms and a creaky 8-seat swing set. An old batting cage and weathered baseball diamond in the field on the other side, just past the basketball hoops. Here is the place a close friend of mine, Koa and I, chose to spend our Sunday night.
*imagine the rhythmic creak of a swing*
*now imagine the feeling of a cool breeze blowing against you, and the hush of night all around*
*and then go ahead and let the images of things past come back. See in front of you all the younger versions of people you know now, innocent and vain running around having fun*
*then come back down from the nostalgic high, and feel the pain as you realize just how much the swing seems to cut in on your legs and hips*
All that beauty, at least in the case of my childhood, and then the prodding of reality. It's weird. The swing all of a sudden becomes a metaphor or symbol with truths that can't help but be noticed. It is a show of all that once was, and how things of the past, while fun in their own time, can sometimes bring longing or pain more presently. The swing plays no games in expressing to you just how much time has passed. And how childish it would be to not accept such things, extract from it what you will, and move on.
My mind was elsewhere for a large majority of the night, which for me was a pretty common place thing. Shifting from the swings, to the metallic dome of bars, to the creaky bridge of the play-set itself. I'm honestly not all too sure what we said, if anything, but I know that we were for a fact talking. My mind only back down to earth just long enough to find inspiration to take flight once more. But this time, not through an infinitely varying world of my own whimsical creation, no. It was back into the crevices of my brain.
He said something about wanting to find that one. That girl that it just "clicks" with right off the bat, and how awesome it would be when that would happen. How nice it would be to not have to work through the awkward glances and small talk and skip right to the thick of it. The "good stuff" I guess. And this set me off again because to offer my own view on things, I had to reach back within myself and relay the story of my senior year romance in-depth. Re-live it all. Because, as you know, with things of great value, the money is in the details. And I owed it to myself whether he wanted to hear it or not to recant the tale.
The focus in all of it, reiterated past the point of necessity was the importance of all the "small things". The small steps to big leaps in the relationship. The way things developed, blossomed, built up the way they did, despite how things began.
It started all the way back in junior year, around the time of the Co-Ed dance competition that I was a part of via my school's drill team. And I explained how through the course of the whole thing, meeting people was the last thing on my mind because as far as I was concerned, the only people I cared to meet, I had already met. I didn't have some girl I pursued because quite frankly it was hard to compete with my dance partner, and even she wasn't one I had planned to pursue. Even details about the atmosphere of the event were discussed because in some ways they were relevant. Though to be honest it was just because I was too selfish to cut any of it out. I truly love the story, after all. It's interesting and the epitome of all that makes life grand and interesting.
So basically at some point, I find myself sitting cramped with random dancers during the competition watching some of my friends in drill team performing a piece. One of my very close friends is sitting to my left, and I'm talking to her about anything and everything "dance". After all, the art genuinely planted a seed of interest in me quite quickly as I'd begun to pick it up. And to her left, is my future significant other, sitting quietly watching as I ask every question under the sun about what makes one dance better than another. Or what to look for. And somewhere in the mix my friend introduces us, because this close friend and another friend of mine had been telling me for quite some time that we'd be great together etc. And let me tell you, this was no picturesque meeting. I was wearing loose sweats and a hoodie, she was clad in basically the same thing, hair in a bun and without make-up. I didn't even know the girl existed until a few days before this meeting, which boggles my mind.
Hey, this is *girl's name*
Hello
Hi
And that was it. No long eye contact, no shake of hands. No "sparks" fly. I awkwardly waved because I didn't know what else to do with my hands, but that was about it. And from there we never spoke again until halfway through summer.
Following this turn of events, my "gal pals" found a new fire of desire to set the two of us up or die trying. Apparently just saying hi was a big deal. Or at least they sure made it seem that way. Out of nowhere I started getting invited to things like going to the movies and brunches with this new girl and my close friend alongside her boyfriend. Which was a solid course of action, except for the fact that we still hardly spoke. No moves AT ALL were made because I felt no need to. Didn't want to. And Lord knows she wouldn't have been the one to do so. That's not how society works these days. Or ever. But for whatever reason, after a particular brunch, I decided to give things a chance and allowed myself to invest in the meetings.
I had a youth camp coming up, so I decided to text the group text (which was made solely to let me know where they were seated in the local Chili's because I was late) with some witty banter. You know, in hopes of striking up enough conversation that I'd have a consistent source of entertainment for the bus ride (20 hours). More-so targeted at my friend and her boyfriend than the new acquaintance, who for the sake of this post I will name April. And things from there just kept slowly going up and up.
Long story short, this goes well, we develop a sort of friendship, and the texts slowly veer toward our own topics versus the group's. Of course until one day, by chance, she happens to pass me at my rugby practice on her way to a drill team lock-in. I waved at her, and ended up getting rocked for not paying attention. She didn't even wave back. But she texted me shortly after wondering if that was me she had just seen, and so I told her the consequences of my wave, we had a laugh, and from there we ended up talking through the night and kicking things off. Things were really good. But I still wasn't sold on things.
Once back from camp and football pre-season picks up, we begin to start talking avidly. Even on occasion hanging out, though of course that didn't mean we actually spoke. Sure we were nice to each other but the tension was enough to put a cap on how in depth conversation got. But in my mind, and I'm sure hers, these were successful encounters.
I remember at the first game, against a long time school rival, we played a real nail bitter that lead to an eventual win. I even got in and played some, but whether I had or hadn't I invest myself so much in things that the game still meant a whole lot to me either way. Given that we won, emotions were high and joy overflowed. I felt on top of the world.
Great things will happen this year, I thought to myself.
And they did.
As tradition went, after each and every game we would always form a large line and, helmets off, sweaty and panting, high five our way all the way around the stadium. And being that I was a first time varsity player, this was new to me and I was just trying to soak it all in. So as I'm making my rounds, I come towards the end, where the band and drill team were stationed, and looking up as I clapped hands, I spotted April. And the look she gave me, one I'd never before seen, sent me to another world. Far above the joy of the win, and all that other stuff like being watched by 15k+ fans fell by the way side as I crossed April, and she held my hand as I passed. I remember not taking my eyes off of her until I absolutely had to, the coaches calling us into the Away team locker room to pack up and leave. From there things continued to slowly but surely pick up.
.PNG)
By this time I had already asked her to Homecoming dance. I had spent countless hours talking to her, sharing things about myself and learning about her where I could, whether from her or my close friend who introduced us before getting on with the act. Or even agreeing to pursue her. Which was a very hard decision to make because it was one I had never before made. But I did. After a night or two of planning, we decided on buying her a bunny from build-a-bear, dressed in hoco attire and strategically placing it somewhere. Which ended up being on one of the stops April and I had planned to hit on a walk we'd been talking about for some time ( which was a real blessing it worked out so seamlessly). I told her I like to take walks in the calm of night down this country road by my old school, you know, for alone time (which I still continue to do to this day), and she liked the sound of such ventures. The bunny was seated against a light post clutching the edge of my elementary school's blacktop, illuminated in orange-ish light. And we wrote out in large letters, close friend and I, "HOCO?", in chalk with copious decorations and half-eaten carrots. I had April call me when she'd arrived at my home, and running from the school all the way to the back door of my house, I met her (gasping for air) at my front door and started the walk when my phone finally buzzed. We talked of course, more than usual this time, and we came upon the spot. It was actually kind of funny because my friend decided to stay and record the moment on her phone from behind the light post. How cheesy. April caught on to what was happening early and I had to push her forward so I could ask her before my nerve left.... And things worked out. She happily said yes.
*imagine the rhythmic creak of a swing*
*now imagine the feeling of a cool breeze blowing against you, and the hush of night all around*
*and then go ahead and let the images of things past come back. See in front of you all the younger versions of people you know now, innocent and vain running around having fun*
*then come back down from the nostalgic high, and feel the pain as you realize just how much the swing seems to cut in on your legs and hips*
All that beauty, at least in the case of my childhood, and then the prodding of reality. It's weird. The swing all of a sudden becomes a metaphor or symbol with truths that can't help but be noticed. It is a show of all that once was, and how things of the past, while fun in their own time, can sometimes bring longing or pain more presently. The swing plays no games in expressing to you just how much time has passed. And how childish it would be to not accept such things, extract from it what you will, and move on.
My mind was elsewhere for a large majority of the night, which for me was a pretty common place thing. Shifting from the swings, to the metallic dome of bars, to the creaky bridge of the play-set itself. I'm honestly not all too sure what we said, if anything, but I know that we were for a fact talking. My mind only back down to earth just long enough to find inspiration to take flight once more. But this time, not through an infinitely varying world of my own whimsical creation, no. It was back into the crevices of my brain.
He said something about wanting to find that one. That girl that it just "clicks" with right off the bat, and how awesome it would be when that would happen. How nice it would be to not have to work through the awkward glances and small talk and skip right to the thick of it. The "good stuff" I guess. And this set me off again because to offer my own view on things, I had to reach back within myself and relay the story of my senior year romance in-depth. Re-live it all. Because, as you know, with things of great value, the money is in the details. And I owed it to myself whether he wanted to hear it or not to recant the tale.
The focus in all of it, reiterated past the point of necessity was the importance of all the "small things". The small steps to big leaps in the relationship. The way things developed, blossomed, built up the way they did, despite how things began.
It started all the way back in junior year, around the time of the Co-Ed dance competition that I was a part of via my school's drill team. And I explained how through the course of the whole thing, meeting people was the last thing on my mind because as far as I was concerned, the only people I cared to meet, I had already met. I didn't have some girl I pursued because quite frankly it was hard to compete with my dance partner, and even she wasn't one I had planned to pursue. Even details about the atmosphere of the event were discussed because in some ways they were relevant. Though to be honest it was just because I was too selfish to cut any of it out. I truly love the story, after all. It's interesting and the epitome of all that makes life grand and interesting.
So basically at some point, I find myself sitting cramped with random dancers during the competition watching some of my friends in drill team performing a piece. One of my very close friends is sitting to my left, and I'm talking to her about anything and everything "dance". After all, the art genuinely planted a seed of interest in me quite quickly as I'd begun to pick it up. And to her left, is my future significant other, sitting quietly watching as I ask every question under the sun about what makes one dance better than another. Or what to look for. And somewhere in the mix my friend introduces us, because this close friend and another friend of mine had been telling me for quite some time that we'd be great together etc. And let me tell you, this was no picturesque meeting. I was wearing loose sweats and a hoodie, she was clad in basically the same thing, hair in a bun and without make-up. I didn't even know the girl existed until a few days before this meeting, which boggles my mind.
Hey, this is *girl's name*
Hello
Hi
And that was it. No long eye contact, no shake of hands. No "sparks" fly. I awkwardly waved because I didn't know what else to do with my hands, but that was about it. And from there we never spoke again until halfway through summer.
Following this turn of events, my "gal pals" found a new fire of desire to set the two of us up or die trying. Apparently just saying hi was a big deal. Or at least they sure made it seem that way. Out of nowhere I started getting invited to things like going to the movies and brunches with this new girl and my close friend alongside her boyfriend. Which was a solid course of action, except for the fact that we still hardly spoke. No moves AT ALL were made because I felt no need to. Didn't want to. And Lord knows she wouldn't have been the one to do so. That's not how society works these days. Or ever. But for whatever reason, after a particular brunch, I decided to give things a chance and allowed myself to invest in the meetings.
I had a youth camp coming up, so I decided to text the group text (which was made solely to let me know where they were seated in the local Chili's because I was late) with some witty banter. You know, in hopes of striking up enough conversation that I'd have a consistent source of entertainment for the bus ride (20 hours). More-so targeted at my friend and her boyfriend than the new acquaintance, who for the sake of this post I will name April. And things from there just kept slowly going up and up.
Long story short, this goes well, we develop a sort of friendship, and the texts slowly veer toward our own topics versus the group's. Of course until one day, by chance, she happens to pass me at my rugby practice on her way to a drill team lock-in. I waved at her, and ended up getting rocked for not paying attention. She didn't even wave back. But she texted me shortly after wondering if that was me she had just seen, and so I told her the consequences of my wave, we had a laugh, and from there we ended up talking through the night and kicking things off. Things were really good. But I still wasn't sold on things.
Once back from camp and football pre-season picks up, we begin to start talking avidly. Even on occasion hanging out, though of course that didn't mean we actually spoke. Sure we were nice to each other but the tension was enough to put a cap on how in depth conversation got. But in my mind, and I'm sure hers, these were successful encounters.
I remember at the first game, against a long time school rival, we played a real nail bitter that lead to an eventual win. I even got in and played some, but whether I had or hadn't I invest myself so much in things that the game still meant a whole lot to me either way. Given that we won, emotions were high and joy overflowed. I felt on top of the world.
Great things will happen this year, I thought to myself.
And they did.
As tradition went, after each and every game we would always form a large line and, helmets off, sweaty and panting, high five our way all the way around the stadium. And being that I was a first time varsity player, this was new to me and I was just trying to soak it all in. So as I'm making my rounds, I come towards the end, where the band and drill team were stationed, and looking up as I clapped hands, I spotted April. And the look she gave me, one I'd never before seen, sent me to another world. Far above the joy of the win, and all that other stuff like being watched by 15k+ fans fell by the way side as I crossed April, and she held my hand as I passed. I remember not taking my eyes off of her until I absolutely had to, the coaches calling us into the Away team locker room to pack up and leave. From there things continued to slowly but surely pick up.
By this time I had already asked her to Homecoming dance. I had spent countless hours talking to her, sharing things about myself and learning about her where I could, whether from her or my close friend who introduced us before getting on with the act. Or even agreeing to pursue her. Which was a very hard decision to make because it was one I had never before made. But I did. After a night or two of planning, we decided on buying her a bunny from build-a-bear, dressed in hoco attire and strategically placing it somewhere. Which ended up being on one of the stops April and I had planned to hit on a walk we'd been talking about for some time ( which was a real blessing it worked out so seamlessly). I told her I like to take walks in the calm of night down this country road by my old school, you know, for alone time (which I still continue to do to this day), and she liked the sound of such ventures. The bunny was seated against a light post clutching the edge of my elementary school's blacktop, illuminated in orange-ish light. And we wrote out in large letters, close friend and I, "HOCO?", in chalk with copious decorations and half-eaten carrots. I had April call me when she'd arrived at my home, and running from the school all the way to the back door of my house, I met her (gasping for air) at my front door and started the walk when my phone finally buzzed. We talked of course, more than usual this time, and we came upon the spot. It was actually kind of funny because my friend decided to stay and record the moment on her phone from behind the light post. How cheesy. April caught on to what was happening early and I had to push her forward so I could ask her before my nerve left.... And things worked out. She happily said yes.
Comments
Post a Comment