counting hoops
Today I walked Toby and Pirate for a few miles at around 730 am. It was a cool 45 degree fall day and I was a little chilly in my shorts and short sleeve shirt, but unwilling to resort to long pants and long sleeves just yet.
It was the kind of day that smelled like fall and my dad and the mountains were turning orange. The little school kids gathered in bunches waiting for car pools or busses, some dressed in the required school uniforms of khaki pants and golf shirts and others in regular school clothes I suppose. I had a flashback of going to grade school in my little town in the fall, and wearing my new clothes. I can remember how it felt to wear new things to a new year of school. The leaves turning on the trees and bushes reminded me of a favorite outfit I had- a green pleated skirt with a white cardigan sweater decorated with green and gold leaves that matched the skirt. I wore the sweater buttoned up and I think I got the outfit from Montgomery Ward with my babysitting money. I wish I still had that outfit....it made me feel beautiful. I had one pair of shoes that would last me all year. I thought of the plethora of shoes living at the bottom of my closet now.
As I guided the blind pirate dog up curbs and away from grates and parked cars, I thought of my grandchildren who with their parents, had spent the summer with us. They had just arrived in Japan where they will be for 6 months and 5 year old Des will be going to school and probably learning Japanese. Already he admonishes me if I don't take my shoes off when I enter the house, telling me that in Japan EVERYBODY takes their shoes off. There's so many reminders of the summer and Des and Roman and his parents....toys in the backyard, Des' bicycle and helmet and the swimming pool that now is just an obstacle for the Pi guy to bump into. Bubbles on the patio table. And toys in the bathroom and their favorite glasses.
After the walk, I went outside to throw the toy for Toby - he is never satisfied with just a walk. I blew some bubble and off they went, blown by the wind towards Japan and my grandsons I imagined. There's something therapeutic about bubbles and ball pits, I discovered. I had made a ball pit in the plastic swimming and sitting in that pool of balls and making "snow angels" and watching the balls bounce around was something I enjoyed probably more than the kids did. The balls are all stored away now until next summer.
Like Toby, I was not satisfied with just the walk so decided to go for a run. As I l closed the door on the dogs, feeling guilty despite having walked them, I noticed the neighbor's basketball hoop in the driveway and thought of how Des and I made it a game to count basketball hoops. It started when he was little and in the stroller and he would yell "hoop Mimi, hoop!". I decided to run ten miles and try to count all the hoops - maybe as a distraction because I didn't feel like running ten miles really and maybe cause I wanted to think of how much I enjoyed those walks with Des and how lucky I was to have been able to spend so much time with him and his brother and his parents. This year was the first year I missed the St. George marathon in 20 years so I also was thinking I had to run at least 26.2 miles this week to make up for it. But not all in one run.
It was what I call a cul de sac run. I could make a longer run out of what is usually 7 miles by just running in and out of cul de sacs and dead end streets. As I started out, I thought about how life might be like a cul de sac run...you run around in a circle and go back out where you started or you find a dead end and try something else. But if you go into those cul de sacs and dead ends you might find things you otherwise would have missed and had experiences you might not have experienced and missed out on some hoops you could have counted - or jumped through.
Des and I would always note driveways that had no hoops. "That would be a good driveway to have a hoop" he would say in a disapproving voice. Or he would say "I bet those people don't have kids, Mimi".
By the time I ran three miles, I had already counted 30 hoops - an average of 10 per mile. I never thought of counting HPMs or "hoops per mile". Some houses had hoops that looked very new - they were adjustable and had a nice glass backboard. Some were the old ones with the wooden backboard. Some had no nets and some just had the backboard without a hoop or a net, but I counted all of these too. I also counted the little kid hoops made by fisher price.
I had explained to Des that some of the houses where the hoops were old or without a net may have once had kids living there but maybe they grew up and left and no one used them anymore. I thought of this as I passed some of these and wondered about the people living there. I hope they weren't alone and unused and lonely and without purpose. Sometimes old people get this way - old and weathered and without their nets - but they are still useful.
As I ran through some of the neighborhoods where the houses were what I called "stucco monsters" or "McMansions", I noted that the hoops were not on the garage or in the driveway. Some of these houses had their own "sports courts" in the backyard - complete with two hoops, one on each end. I wondered how much they got used. I wondered if the people in these houses just didn't want to deface their huge garages with a basketball hoop? I was being judgmental I know. I wondered if any of the people who lived in these houses gave much thought to those living in the houses with old unused deteriorating hoops.
By the time I reached 8 miles, I had sited over 100 hoops. My "map my run" app on my phone ticked off the miles but I had to remember what hoop I was on. Finally after this 8th mile, I got in the zone and felt good. To ensure I got my ten miles I did a lap around a Mormon ward house parking lot. As I circled this large parking lot, looking for stray coins on the street, I started feeling grateful.
Grateful to be able to run ten miles on a nice fall day.
Grateful to have spent the summer with my grandsons and mornings with Des, and hearing Roman say "Wow" at the Christmas tree that we put up early and to get his 'besitos". And his stink eye and one dimpled smile.
Grateful to not be working - took me a long time to finally let all that go, but it is gone and my life is more than the career I had and how it ended and so am I.
Grateful to have a kind husband.
Grateful that I have kids who I think like their parents and each other.
I thought of how Desmond would say, "Mimi?"
"What?" I would reply
"I love you".
"Love you more" I would automatically say.
By the time I entered my driveway I had counted 130 hoops. And I had my ten miles in.
It was the kind of day that smelled like fall and my dad and the mountains were turning orange. The little school kids gathered in bunches waiting for car pools or busses, some dressed in the required school uniforms of khaki pants and golf shirts and others in regular school clothes I suppose. I had a flashback of going to grade school in my little town in the fall, and wearing my new clothes. I can remember how it felt to wear new things to a new year of school. The leaves turning on the trees and bushes reminded me of a favorite outfit I had- a green pleated skirt with a white cardigan sweater decorated with green and gold leaves that matched the skirt. I wore the sweater buttoned up and I think I got the outfit from Montgomery Ward with my babysitting money. I wish I still had that outfit....it made me feel beautiful. I had one pair of shoes that would last me all year. I thought of the plethora of shoes living at the bottom of my closet now.
As I guided the blind pirate dog up curbs and away from grates and parked cars, I thought of my grandchildren who with their parents, had spent the summer with us. They had just arrived in Japan where they will be for 6 months and 5 year old Des will be going to school and probably learning Japanese. Already he admonishes me if I don't take my shoes off when I enter the house, telling me that in Japan EVERYBODY takes their shoes off. There's so many reminders of the summer and Des and Roman and his parents....toys in the backyard, Des' bicycle and helmet and the swimming pool that now is just an obstacle for the Pi guy to bump into. Bubbles on the patio table. And toys in the bathroom and their favorite glasses.
After the walk, I went outside to throw the toy for Toby - he is never satisfied with just a walk. I blew some bubble and off they went, blown by the wind towards Japan and my grandsons I imagined. There's something therapeutic about bubbles and ball pits, I discovered. I had made a ball pit in the plastic swimming and sitting in that pool of balls and making "snow angels" and watching the balls bounce around was something I enjoyed probably more than the kids did. The balls are all stored away now until next summer.
Like Toby, I was not satisfied with just the walk so decided to go for a run. As I l closed the door on the dogs, feeling guilty despite having walked them, I noticed the neighbor's basketball hoop in the driveway and thought of how Des and I made it a game to count basketball hoops. It started when he was little and in the stroller and he would yell "hoop Mimi, hoop!". I decided to run ten miles and try to count all the hoops - maybe as a distraction because I didn't feel like running ten miles really and maybe cause I wanted to think of how much I enjoyed those walks with Des and how lucky I was to have been able to spend so much time with him and his brother and his parents. This year was the first year I missed the St. George marathon in 20 years so I also was thinking I had to run at least 26.2 miles this week to make up for it. But not all in one run.
It was what I call a cul de sac run. I could make a longer run out of what is usually 7 miles by just running in and out of cul de sacs and dead end streets. As I started out, I thought about how life might be like a cul de sac run...you run around in a circle and go back out where you started or you find a dead end and try something else. But if you go into those cul de sacs and dead ends you might find things you otherwise would have missed and had experiences you might not have experienced and missed out on some hoops you could have counted - or jumped through.
Des and I would always note driveways that had no hoops. "That would be a good driveway to have a hoop" he would say in a disapproving voice. Or he would say "I bet those people don't have kids, Mimi".
By the time I ran three miles, I had already counted 30 hoops - an average of 10 per mile. I never thought of counting HPMs or "hoops per mile". Some houses had hoops that looked very new - they were adjustable and had a nice glass backboard. Some were the old ones with the wooden backboard. Some had no nets and some just had the backboard without a hoop or a net, but I counted all of these too. I also counted the little kid hoops made by fisher price.
I had explained to Des that some of the houses where the hoops were old or without a net may have once had kids living there but maybe they grew up and left and no one used them anymore. I thought of this as I passed some of these and wondered about the people living there. I hope they weren't alone and unused and lonely and without purpose. Sometimes old people get this way - old and weathered and without their nets - but they are still useful.
As I ran through some of the neighborhoods where the houses were what I called "stucco monsters" or "McMansions", I noted that the hoops were not on the garage or in the driveway. Some of these houses had their own "sports courts" in the backyard - complete with two hoops, one on each end. I wondered how much they got used. I wondered if the people in these houses just didn't want to deface their huge garages with a basketball hoop? I was being judgmental I know. I wondered if any of the people who lived in these houses gave much thought to those living in the houses with old unused deteriorating hoops.
By the time I reached 8 miles, I had sited over 100 hoops. My "map my run" app on my phone ticked off the miles but I had to remember what hoop I was on. Finally after this 8th mile, I got in the zone and felt good. To ensure I got my ten miles I did a lap around a Mormon ward house parking lot. As I circled this large parking lot, looking for stray coins on the street, I started feeling grateful.
Grateful to be able to run ten miles on a nice fall day.
Grateful to have spent the summer with my grandsons and mornings with Des, and hearing Roman say "Wow" at the Christmas tree that we put up early and to get his 'besitos". And his stink eye and one dimpled smile.
Grateful to not be working - took me a long time to finally let all that go, but it is gone and my life is more than the career I had and how it ended and so am I.
Grateful to have a kind husband.
Grateful that I have kids who I think like their parents and each other.
I thought of how Desmond would say, "Mimi?"
"What?" I would reply
"I love you".
"Love you more" I would automatically say.
By the time I entered my driveway I had counted 130 hoops. And I had my ten miles in.
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