I went to Phoenix, actually Tempe, this past weekend. On the drive home from AZ, we stopped for gas and a restroom. Admittedly, my gait wasn’t as spry as the previous day’s. In the ladies’ room, the door to the handicapped stall was wide open, and the opening plus the door blocked the view of the entire length of that end. As I stumbled into the restroom, a woman came in right behind me. I moved the door and revealed a second stall. She said, “I can tell from the way you walk you need the big one.”
I burst into laughter. My shuffling gait was the product of winning gold in a senior volleyball tournament. I had played in the Arizona Senior Olympic State games. I had hit well, run well, served well, passed well, and at times awesomely in all areas. My team got the gold in the ladies 60s division. Whoot whoot! When I was 25, if someone had told me that I’d be playing better volleyball at sixty, (Jesus, sixty!), I never would have believed it. But, yes, I do believe I play better now than I did back then. The difference is the price that I pay at this age for playing volleyball from 8:30 AM to 6:00 PM.
Ah, the way the world finds a way to bring you down to earth.
Books I’m reading now:
Beach Read by Emily Henry
The Bookshop on the Corner by Jenny Colgan
Vinegar Girl by Anne Tyler