My Happy Place
It’s the 4th of July and I am in my happy place. I’m at my sister’s in Indiana for their yearly pool party with 30 guests, including another sister who lives in town. The kitchen is bursting with enough food for 300 football players. My sisters chopped and cooked vegetables, fruits, baked beans, sloppy joes, pasta salad, and three-bean-salad. The works. The garage refrigerator is stocked with drinks. Every guest brought a dish to share and the smells of indulgence fill the room. Most of us eat poolside in the shade, but I eat inside next to the food where it’s easier to help myself to seconds . . . and thirds. I eat too much.
Later I’m playing volleyball in the pool with the eight-year-old grandson of a family friend I haven’t seen since he was four. He’s competitive and I am too, so we count our rallies. When we pass his record of seven, he set with his grandma, I see a big smile. Eleven is our score to beat for a long time. We tie our record three times, but can’t get 12. Then we do. When we hit 13, we match “momma’s lucky number” he says, and we start again. Grandma asks if he wants to play ping-pong. He does, but doesn’t want to end our game on a bad round. I remember not being able to stop shooting baskets on a missed shot since I was his age. Athletes never want to end a practice or a game on a low note. Grandma waits. When we reach 19, there is no celebration. He tells his grandma he is ready to play ping-pong. Our game is over. Maybe we will beat our score next year.
I join the adults. Most have been friends of my sister and brother-in-law for over 30 years. We talk about motor homes, books, traveling, and travel books made into movies. Everyone laughs when someone tells a story from Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods. Someone mentions Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse. This is my kind of conversation. I’m loving it! One couple needs to let their dog out. They are staying at a campground nearby. We vow to keep in touch, and the group breaks up.
I move on to a talk with my nieces and nephews. Two of them came late to the party because they were skydiving—their way of celebrating my nephew’s 50th birthday. This was their first time jumping—a dream come true. The rest of us are impressed, but not jealous. My nephew shows us a video of himself jumping out of a perfectly good airplane. He’s loving it! I mean like really loving it! They tell us one instructor has jumped 10,000 times, or some crazy number like that. My mind fills with questions of cost and the wear and tear on one’s body, but they must leave. It’s back to work tomorrow for the young bloods.
My niece and I pick up ping-pong paddles and talk as we play. All of us in the family can play and we know that the one in the family who plays above the rest of us is not here. Because of that, we believe we have an equal shot at winning today. After a 30-minute warmup, we start a game. The game is close. She gets a point. I get two. She gets one. We rally until she forgets she’s supposed to let me get a point every other play. Somehow, she pulls away and scores 15 unanswered points. Game over. I hate to lose. Maybe this isn’t my happy place after all.
Where is your happy place? How did you spend our nation’s Independence Day? Please scroll down and comment below.