I'm cured of the crud but a little hoarse still, from screaming at volleyball and with a bit of lingering chest cough. We play for the state championship Tuesday evening. Wish us luck! My husband is the coach of a marvelous team of 7th graders, who are nice human beings, very supportive of each other and of their 6th grade practice squad, as well as talented athletes.
He is such a good coach. The girls and their parents appreciate and admire him, and he brings out the best in them. In the second game of the first match, he started several "bench players," girls who have been improving all season in practice, and were ready now to perform, and they did. This was an appropriate risk to take against this particular team, and our girls won the match in two games. In the next match, which went all three games, the regular season starters went back in, rested and fed, and played at the top of their abilities against a well-matched challenger. Tight fight all the way through! Screaming final point on a spike. Yay!
This morning it was darker driving my daughter to school, but spring is coming, more light, and it's already 55 out there and due to be in the 70s all week, we hear. I was driving straight into dark blue beauty, clouds opening, somehow perfect Blue Monday weather.
I am a little blue, sort of that post-sickness lingering faint fatigue and post-thrill sighing release. I've drafted some new poems and have more work to do. It's good work. I'm grateful for it.
"You must change your life," said Rilke. So that's what I keep doing. I worked as an actor, wrote for an encyclopedia, edited a literary magazine, and taught college English courses. Now I write poetry, blog "eight days a week," and listen to birdsong.