TheBanyanTree: One Last Kiss

[Margaret R. Kramer]

We’ve been treated to some kisses of summer these past few days.  Highs have
reached into the lower 80s and the sun has been brilliant against a perfect
blue sky.  Pockets of color in the leaves are scattered here and there, but
we’re a few weeks away from an all out assault of reds, oranges, and
yellows.  I’ve thrown open the windows when I’ve come home from work and let
the house soak in that last bit of summer warmth before we have to close up
and turn on the furnace.

It was on Thursday, a perfect late summer evening, that was I called upon to
be a “soccer grandma” (minus the minivan!) and take the older grandson to
practice.  I enjoyed sitting in the park in my comfortable lawn chair
watching people play tennis, watching a couple of guys play baseball, and of
course, watching the boys going through their soccer drills.  Boogie’s coach
is low key, very organized, and gives everyone a chance to play every
position.  The younger grandson took an unused soccer ball and showed off
his own soccer skills while his older brother was practicing.

Yesterday was another picture-perfect day.  I left work early for a dentist
appointment and then drove back into St Paul along I-94 with the sunroof
open, the windows down, and the summer breeze blowing through my hair.  I
had my radio cranked up LOUD!  All of a sudden, traffic was all backed up
and I figured there was some kind of accident.  Sure enough, there was a
school bus which had rolled down a hill and over the guard rail and was
hanging into the eastbound side of the freeway.  I later learned no one was
hurt.  I guess something had given out in the engine and caused the bus to
roll backward.

I worked through the gawker slowdown and got to my destination of the
tanning salon for my final tanning session of the season.  When my white
body was brown once more (and for the last time until April or May) I drove
by my grandsons’ school because I knew they would have just let out and my
son usually lets them play on the playground for a while before taking them
home.

Yep, as I was parking the car, I saw the younger grandson hit the ground
after kicking the ball.  And I saw my son sitting against the fence watching
the fierce play.  The boys don’t really play soccer, but follow the ball
wherever it’s kicked.  It’s the relaxed, unstructured, and no parents are
involved play that seems to be disappearing fast in our culture.

I chatted with my son for a while about how the school seems to suck the
life out of the older one.  He’s just like a zombie after school.  We talked
about how the little one has a friend in his kindergarten class, but doesn’t
know his name.  We talked about the Twins and the Vikings and how bad the
Gophers will be this year.  Then the impromptu soccer game was over and it
was time for everyone to go home.

That’s why I love where I live so much.  I’m close to the boys’ school.  I’m
close to the park where they play soccer.  I’m close to everything that
matters to me.  And it’s especially nice to be close to all those things
that matter when summer is letting go and giving way to fall.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net

I am learning all the time.  The tombstone will be my diploma.
~Eartha Kitt