For the Moment
May. 28th, 2009 02:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thisnewdayThe track at the high school was wind-swept and a bit chilly as I attempted to get in my fitness walk between rain showers yesterday. Still, the phys ed classes were out, on the multi-purpose field surrounded by the track, and the sound of their activity on the make-shift softball diamond lent the morning a festive if frenetic air.
As usual, a dozen or so of them walked the track in scattered groups of two and three, choosing not to participate in the organized activity on the field. As I walked, I felt myself drawn into the game, evaluating the players, silently coaching them through plays from a sideline that varied from a few feet to the full length of the football field.
Under my breath, I would "Oooh" and "Awww" at a particularly good play or missed opportunity. And I'd find myself hoping, now and again, that a fouled-off pitch or errant throw might roll across the track in my direction. Something, I guess, that would make me part of the game, if only for a few seconds.
And it made me want to say, to the ones circling the track with me, "Hey, this is your chance to be part of something that will soon pass out of your life. Better be part of it while you can."
But the truth is that they were part of it, just by being young. Even though they weren't participating directly, they were, for the moment, still part of it in a way that neither they nor I would ever be again...
As usual, a dozen or so of them walked the track in scattered groups of two and three, choosing not to participate in the organized activity on the field. As I walked, I felt myself drawn into the game, evaluating the players, silently coaching them through plays from a sideline that varied from a few feet to the full length of the football field.
Under my breath, I would "Oooh" and "Awww" at a particularly good play or missed opportunity. And I'd find myself hoping, now and again, that a fouled-off pitch or errant throw might roll across the track in my direction. Something, I guess, that would make me part of the game, if only for a few seconds.
And it made me want to say, to the ones circling the track with me, "Hey, this is your chance to be part of something that will soon pass out of your life. Better be part of it while you can."
But the truth is that they were part of it, just by being young. Even though they weren't participating directly, they were, for the moment, still part of it in a way that neither they nor I would ever be again...
