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| {Bucky taking a shot at Friday night's game} |
I can not remember seeing Max this excited about something in his whole life. He has repeatedly worked hard this entire season. He has been to every practice. He explodes out of the locker room for dry-land. He studies nutrition information while eating his snacks. He keeps track of how much weight he is lifting at the weight sessions. He looks over the mental training guidelines while he is doing his homework. He reads over the play book Coach Oly gave him before every game. He loves to be the first one on the ice, and the last one off after picking up the pucks. Oly, sent me this text:
I love Bucky's work ethic and passion for the game. In fact, for the record, he is the most improved player on the team so far this year. Thank you Mama Bucky.
Max had two games this weekend to get him qualified for Tier II state playoffs, nearly forgetting it was a holiday - but not quite. When he played in Friday night's game, he was on the ice more than usual due to the high number of penalties on the member's of his team. Sixteen total, three players suspended from Saturday's game and Coach Oly, since Coaches are suspended when their team has more than fifteen penalties I guess. When he told me about Saturday's game(since I had to work) the oddest thought came to my head.
"I want to get excited about hockey."
I went up to his bedroom where he was supposed to be doing an assignment for school. Instead he was looking at the newest copy of USA Hockey magazine. He had the neck of the bendable light shining directly down on his magazine. He was reading each article like a true scientist.
"Do you think this stick would make my shot better?" he posed with a giggle. I could tell it was a trick question, so I played along.
"It sure looks like it would to me," I replied.
"Nope! It's not the stick that makes a better shot. It's the number of times you shoot it." Max then proceeded to tell me how he is going to take a few shots before his practice tomorrow to see how many he can get in before.
As he described how he wants to work harder, a thought I'd never had in my life came to me. "I want to get excited about shots."
First it was hockey then it was shots. I had no idea where this was coming from.
Then, yesterday morning, Max bounded down the stairs fully dressed and ready for breakfast. He was holding the USA Hockey magazine in one hand and his newly taped stick in the other. It was 8:35 a.m. and he was smiling the way people do when they are about to leave on a plane for Hawaii. I found his early Sunday morning cheerfulness a little irritating.
There I stood in my mismatched pajamas and blue fuzzy slippers holding a plate of eggs made scrambled, the way I always make them thinking, "I want to get excited about mornings too."
It is kind of painful to admit, but I can't remember the last time I felt excited...like jump-and-down excited...or grinning-from-ear-to-ear excited. Truthfully, I was in a mood. My heart felt like it was only half beating. My view of the world looked grey. I needed something but what...medication? Meditation? Vacation? I knew what was wrong with me. I was missing Markus on his birthday.
All day I thought about my son, my missing his birthday, my going-through-the-motions of buying and wrapping his present existence. I'd just completed a 12-day Choose Love Challenge. I'd promised to choose love as my response to loneliness, frustration, and sadness, but suddenly I also wanted to choose to love LIFE more. I wanted to get excited about everyday blessings the way my 15-year-old son did. But maybe this is just what happens when you get older and you are missing someone. Maybe my boys can only get excited about hockey and shooting and practicing. I had no answers, I did feel slightly more alive because I was asking questions...even ones that hurt.
Max got finished with practice by noon with sweat joyfully dripping from his hair. By the look on his face, it was Christmas in February. He informed me that he had won the shootout and had to practice more shooting as soon as he got home.
I sat in the driveway bundled up from head to toe while my coat-less son demonstrated several variations of hockey shots despite the bitter wind. I couldn't help but notice the way his grin grew with every shot. As Max got into a rhythm, the pucks literally came to life.
Between the sunshine, his smile and the movement of the wind, I felt a little better. I felt a little pulse coming back to my lifeless veins.
A few hours later I logged on to watch Markus' final game from Vegas online. I thought about not watching it and studying instead. I was tired and just wanted to go to bed. But those pucks flying in the driveway seemed to call me.
After agreeing to the terms and conditions and paying the $10.00 fee, my son's game promptly filled the computer screen. It was a little jumpy due to my ancient computer but Markus still looked to me as if he was flying across the ice. When the game versus the LA Jr. Kings was tied 1-1 and he scored the game winning goal it was like lotion on my thirsty winter skin.
I hadn't expected him to be so good at hockey. I hadn't expected it to feel this good to see his face. Between his little smile, the tranquility of the sound of his skates on the ice, and our loving connection when he pointed to the camera and did a fist pump, I felt a little better. I ran upstairs to text Max as he had gone out with some friends.
This afternoon was Max's extra team practice for President's day. He'd just finished up on the ice when he asked me if I wanted to stop for fish tacos at Lone Star. I really wanted to get home. I needed to save money. But the smile - the smile got me again. He seemed to whisper, "Say yes."
Just because I am an adult does not mean that I must live a life void of excitement, passion and joy. I can:
- Take a different route home
- Accept a challenge
- Learn something new
- Say yes more often than no
- Surround my self with lovers of life
- Stop expecting - and instead
- Be open to the unexpected
Every time I feel the need to be excited more than I do I am going to say something I thought I would never say:
I am excited about fuzzy slippers.
I am excited about snowflakes.
I am excited about bubble baths,
and balloons with curly, blue ribbons.
I am excited about crunchy sweet apples from Trader Joe's in the dead of winter.
I am excited about this beautiful day in front of me just waiting to be lived.
We are what we repeatedly do.
I am excited.
