Let's Play a Game

I left both places of employment early today due to me being ill and quite out of sorts (can you tell I am currently reading Jane Austen??). I thought it quite inconvenient that I was ill, being that it was such a lovely day. It was WARM. Dagnabit.

Instead of coming straight home this evening like I should have done, I went to the park in my neighborhood, walked to the center of the green and sprawled. I soaked some rays (so far no sunburn, yay!), smelled the grass, the dirt, the hint of florals, the clean fresh air being lightly swept on the delectable breeze. It was heavenly. I think it did me a world of good.

After a few minutes I focused on a mother who was quite obviously expecting a baby and her two children, a blonde girl about 6 I would guess and a boy about 2 or 3. I am super bad at guessing ages so I am likely off on both accounts. I watched as they made up games and would play them. It mostly involved who could reach Mommy first. Running, hopping, rolling, etc. The girl won every time.

Once they were playing hide and go seek. In broad daylight. In a sparsely treed park. Kind of obvious where both of them were, but they thought they had the best hiding spots. I am fairly certain I was just like that when I was a girl. I used to think I hid pretty well. Then I realized I was no good at it.

It made me really think about when I was young. We would play games, but I had to let Emily win sometimes. I didn't like that. I thought whoever was best should win. Obviously when we were kids she was at a disadvantage being the younger of the two. I find it funny that she grew up to be more competitive than I am. Don't get me wrong, I still like to win, but in my opinion I think she has a stronger will for it, which is not a bad thing in the least.

Back at the park, a baseball game was being played and a couple were throwing a frisbee back and forth. I had so many flashbacks to when I lived in California as a girl. We lived across the street from the middle school, and the fields were always open. I played in a softball league, I rode my bike around the track, sometimes with friends, played handball with myself, and would lay out on the grass and pull it up one pinch of blades at a time. Those were some happy childhood years.

So today, I wanted to play.

Then I came back to myself. I was sick. I couldn't run home, grab my cleats and mitt, call all my local friends and start a baseball game of my own (yes I have cleats AND a mitt), nor could I intrude on the frisbee couple to make a wider game of it. I had to come home, stuff something with chicken broth into me, and rest.

I mean, I COULD try to play, but that would mean I would likely be sick for that much longer.

So I was responsible.

But I still want to play.