Fiend at Court Unplugged
Earlier this week USTA Texas Posted a challenge on Facebook “Tell me you’re a tennis player without telling me you are a tennis player.” The resulting comments were active and spirited. Some were better than others. As I continue to wander about in the house I grew up in, I have come to the realization that this house tells the story that a tennis player lives here, even in the absence of racquets and balls.
As an example, there is a porcelain teapot artfully arranged on the kitchen counter. The Umpire Who Gave Birth to Me received it as a gift sometime after I left to go to college. This week I finally thought to lift the lid and discovered that this is where the Splenda packets are hidden. In retrospect, it makes perfect sense sitting right there next to the sugar bowl.
My brother and I are sharing a unique sibling bonding experience at the moment. We are spending copious amounts of time in our childhood home in surroundings that should be familiar to us. However, Mom has spent years relocating items within the house to accommodate declining mobility and reach. The net result is that almost nothing is in the location where it was when we both lived here.
One mutual contact of ours on social media has inquired about the health of the Umpire Who Gave Birth to Me. She put two and two together after realizing that my brother and I have both been posting from our childhood home for an extended timeframe.
It’s kind of a long story, but Mom is going to be fine. She fell and has some fractures, but there is nothing life threatening about her condition. As a complicating factor, she was exposed to and tested positive for COVID in the hospital. That was highly concerning given her age, but she stayed completely asymptomatic over the time when symptoms would normally be exhibited. In accordance with CDC guidelines and the county health department, we all three exited quarantine yesterday.
The fractures will take much longer to heal, but this is her third time around that track. The Umpire Who Gave Birth to Me is nothing if not resilient.
In the meantime, my brother and I are continuing the sentimental and essential scavenger hunt in this household. It is a unique sibling bonding experience. This morning the lightbulb burned out in my closet. I think I know where the lightbulbs are stored. Probably I am about to discover that I am wrong.
Once the Umpire Who Gave Birth to Me recovers more mobility, she will likely be chapped to discover that we have been slowly migrating items back to their historic locations.
We will cross that bridge when we come to it.
