“Based on the evidence, why was I given this day?”- John O’Donohue
11:30 am, Saturday Dec. 9, Chilkat River Beach. North wind, 30 degrees, fine snow. High tide.
We walked later because I had a basketball game to watch at 10:00 and another one at 1:00. My granddaughters are playing in a middle school tournament against Skagway. The kids, parents and coaches came over on the ferry yesterday and are sleeping in the school. The boys and girls are playing so it’s pretty much games all the time until the parade tonight at 4:00. It’s a good weekend to be inside a warm gym, and the place is buzzing.
The walk was cold and windy, and Beth and I somehow ( the universe tapped us on our shoulders?) ended up sharing stories about our mothers, and wondering what we would say to them if we could. She was half her age now when her mom died, I was 45 when mine did. We had a a lot of questions about how to live after 50. What it means to be a good spouse, friend, mother, aunt, grandmother, great aunt–
“I bet you’d know what she’d say,” Beth said.
“I don’t think I do,” I said. “I wish I did.”
But I want to tell you how the best thing in the world happened last night at the basketball game. My granddaughter CC was playing on the A Team (she is an eighth grader) and the game was tied, then went into overtime. With seconds to go CC took a shot…
…and made it!
The crowd cheered, her teammates hugged her– and she was just so very happy. As happy as I’d ever seen her. And for all the best kind of reasons — she had accomplished something real that came from practice, patience, commitment to her team and the courage and confidence to believe she could sink that basket.
I hope she will keep this feeling in her bones, deep down, so she will always have it. And wish I could help her by somehow bottling the spirit of this moment and giving it to her for Christmas. That way she’d have it forever, to take a sip of whenever she is low– and not just next month or next year– but twenty, thirty, heck fifty years from now. Whenever and wherever she is sad, discouraged or feeling like she just can’t do anything right. That way she will always know how wonderful she is– always– even when I am no longer here to remind her.
