Over the long weekend, Husband and I took the girls to visit Grammy and Dad-Dad in the Philly suburbs. As always, the girls had a blast, running wild in the green grass, soaking up the sun and the doting affection of their grandparents. One night, after the girls were tucked away in bed, Husband took me back to his high school to watch an evening soccer game. Husband played soccer on this very team - and went on to play soccer in college as well. Needless to say, soccer (and athletics in general) were a huge part of Husband's pre-me life. Fittingly, soccer (and athletics in general) were a huge part of my pre-Husband life.
Anyway. We arrived at the game in its second half. This city girl was impressed with the impeccable suburban stadium with its endless bleachers and night lights and fans. We were lucky if we had a dozen stragglers at our games back in the day. (Thanks, Mom, for always being there.) It was quite the scene. The segregated scene. On one side were the kids, high schoolers sprinkled with middle schoolers. On the other side, probably sitting where they were told, were the parents.
Husband and I sat right in between these groups.
It was a good game. I was amazed at the level of play. Husband's high school won 5-2. But the truth is I missed good chunks of the game. Why? Because I was busy watching the high school kids. Studying them. Remembering when. The vast majority of the girls wore itty-bitty jean shorts that barely covered their itty-bitty butts. The guys hooted and hollered at their team in faux (or maybe authentically) deep voices. I was fascinated. I also looked the other way and watched the parents. A species sporting sensible clothes and proud smiles and streaks of well-earned gray.
And I looked at Husband. A handsome creature neither young nor old. There was nostalgia there, in his bright blue eyes. On this night, I was able to picture my man as a boy out there on the field, laced with determination, leading his team to victory. I was also able to picture him as a dad in the stands, clapping his hands and oozing with a different kind of joy.
But mostly, I stayed right there. In the middle bleacher. Next to one important man. Between two groups. Between two brilliant and tricky places: the past and the future.
Mostly, I stayed right there. Here.
- Have you experienced this In-Between thing?
- Have you ever gone somewhere where you were able to simultaneously glimpse Then and When?
- Does getting older scare you?
- Are you able to picture your partner as a high schooler? As an older person?
- Do you think I should move to the 'burbs so my girls can play soccer (if they so choose) in a big, amazing stadium?
- Have you seen these itty-bitty shorts of which I speak? :)