Saturday, May 28, 2016

(Memory)al Day Weekend

I'm coming to you live from a hotel filled to the brim with basketball players in a town with a lot of roundabouts and fancy grocery shops. Yes, we are in full AAU swing, which means traveling every other weekend and sleeping on uncomfortable sofas, that is if I get any sleep at all with my brother and sister's snoring topped only by being kicked and hit in the head repeatedly. That brings us to now as I write this at 6:30 am on a Saturday, which is practically the middle of the night for any teenager who enjoys her beauty rest. I've actually been up for the past three and a half hours, watching Netflix and trying, with no success, to fall back to sleep. My neck is stiff, my back is in dire need of a chiropractor, and Miley Cyrus' Party in the USA is playing through my headphones, so not everything is going badly.

Being here, getting ready to watch my brother play basketball in a few hours, brings back memories, good and bad, of long drives and fast food as well as horrible suicide filled practices. For those who aren't sports fans, suicides are when you sprint to different lengths of the floor, then back to the baseline until finally, when you are so tired you just want to lay down for a year, you run the full length of the court and back. I remember the tears I shed, the bruises that inevitably formed on my elbow at least once every tournament, but most importantly I remember the way it felt out there on the court. The competitive spirit rang through the gyms like jingle bells on Christmas and the way the pre-game excitement hits you, either like a bag of nerves or a giddy feeling that won't go away until you're out there doing what you love.

If I'm being honest, which i am, I don't really want to be here at this tournament, not that anyone really cares. I feel awkward, like i don't belong or something, especially when we go out to dinner or whatever with the team. Do i sit at the kid's table? No. Do i sit at the adult table? No. Where do i sit then? Usually by myself, pretending to text. Do i ever get used to feeling like a loner? No. Will I ever feel truly loved and less lonely? I hope so.

Feel free to comment. Sorry for making this sort of a downer and thanks for reading.