Member-only story
STRIKE!!!
Yesterday I went to my first bowling league afternoon of play. And play I did! After warming up for 15 minutes with my new teammates, we settled into the regulation three-game series that defines a week’s statistics. And right out of the shoot, I bowled a strike.
I knew at that moment, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
You see, I was bowling at the very same lanes my husband and I had bowled at over a decade ago. I was a different Human then — a lifetime ago. The place hadn’t changed at all. The gaudy, neon-colored backstop of the lanes made it nearly impossible to read their numbers. The smell of chalk, hot pretzels, and shoe disinfectant filled the space. The sound of balls being rolled and pins going down echoed through the alleys. Underneath it all, was the buzz of conversation.
I was greeted by friendly and open faces. Humans that were happy to see me join their ranks. Hands were shaken, names exchanged and smiles given. I paid my fee and put on my brand-new bowling shoes. It took me a while to find a house ball that was light enough, yet still fit my hand. I eventually settled on a 9-pound youth ball in a nauseating green. It reminded me a bit of a number of not-so-healthy body fluids I had seen back in my nursing days.
