It is a summer early morning. I tiptoe out of the house. The sun has just rise past the horizon, still tinted with a little orange hue. The flowers and grass are still wet with the morning dew. Birds, worms even the humans are still dormant. The streets are vacant. Even the famous Parking Lot of America, the Long Island Expressway (the part of Interstate highway 495 from East River to Riverhead is called LIE.) is empty. During the 12 minutes commute, my heart is longing, my body is inching, my eyes are so looking forward to the blue courts. After turning off the igniter in the park’s parking lot, I gather up my gears, the bag, water, balls and towel. I always feel the little path from the parking lot to the courts are too long, because I just wanted to hop onto it as soon as I parked my car.
The weekend morning tennis begins.
First come the greeting from my buddies. Yes, someone is always arriving there earlier than I do. I lace up my sneakers, apply suntan lotion and do a few passable stretches (knowing well that a good stretches help provide injury .. ) I am ready to work.
The first 10 to 20 minutes is always for warm up. The courts are usually filled. But it is still very quiet. The park goers are still resting at home. All we have are few tennis bums, blue courts and white clouds under the blue skies.
Sweats soon engulf me, drenching me and washing off my suntan lotion. The sun climbs higher and begins to heat this part of the earth up like a steam pot. A few seconds under the stingy shade feels so good but after retrieving the ball, I immediately return to the burning court. Because I love tennis, love to play it no matter what.
Two or three hours and few sets later, all the water bottles are emptied. The scorching sun seems could fry an egg on my back. My body begins to fall apart and my legs are no longer listen to me (mine). But I feel good, I feel great, I feel I could take on the world.
When I get back home, after a quick shower, it is just the right time to see my children begin to open their eyes, doing a few lazy stretches in bed.
“Good morning Mom!”
A big hug and round of kisses. My weekend has just officially start.
