It was 6:15 p.m. on a cold, windy, dark mid-January evening. I was sitting on the end of the front bench of the bleachers in the Oakley High School gym, changing my shoes after chasing rebounds for a couple of girls who were shooting a few free throws at the end of a two-hour practice with the girls’ basketball team. We were practicing because our scheduled game that night had been canceled due to the wild weather.
I glanced to my left as some of the girls on the team departed out of the big glass doors at the front of the gym. I could see and hear miniature tornadoes of snow chaotically dancing around outside under the lights of the school across the road. I felt the cold fog of depression that was looming over me tighten its grip on me ever so slightly.
Just a short week or so earlier the weather had been perfect, save for a few winter storms that had shored up the snow, and thus the water supply, in the mountains to the east. Temperatures had hung around the 40s, even flirting with 50 a time or two. Most of the snow in the fields had disappeared, and I had just barely put the cows on their full ration of hay, managing to make it clear to the end of December before I hit that annual milestone. That was a genuine rarity in my world. Now, it felt as though those days were decades ago.
Though I hadn’t really ever thought about it until that moment, I realized that the grind was wearing on me. I’d never really let it affect me too much – the grind. After all, everyone has to deal with it in some form or another, and there were scores of people around who were probably dealing with much more than I was and seemingly bearing it with more grace than I could muster.
Land payments, feed bills, worn-out equipment, ghosts of recent and long-past regrets, children with life-threatening maladies, crippled horses, fence-jumping cows, a dog with a broken leg and of course the rank weather; all of these things were separately and at once heavy on my mind. It wasn’t long ago that everything was perfect. Now? Perfection was a pipe dream.
As I sat there, with the normally soothing sound of several cowhide-covered orbs bouncing on a perfectly polished gym floor of a little country school, though it was inadvertent, I became transfixed on my worries. I thought I was present in the moment, or at least successfully faking it as I was surrounded by my team and fellow coaches, but apparently my vacant stare betrayed, to some degree at least, my troubled mind.
With the girls departing the gym, as is my normal and intentional routine, I tried to give each of them an individual cheerful and encouraging parting salutation. By doing so, besides hopefully lifting them up, I’m always buoyed by their friendly and sometimes playfully sarcastic replies. It’s a perfect routine, one that has served me well through the years.
On this night, though, there must have been a subtle and slightly nuanced difference in my demeanor. As the girls headed out in pairs, by themselves or in groups of three or four, they each smiled, waved and gave me a friendly parting shot as they walked out into the storm. One girl, however, changed things up a bit. As her hand touched the door, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that she took a step back, turned around and came back into the gym.
“Are you OK?” she sincerely queried, as she stuck her head around the corner.
“Oh, heck yeah,” was the lie I chose to answer with. “Thanks for asking.”
Even though I knew this particular young lady was carrying her own burdens that all too often are unfairly cast on some kids, she made the effort to try to ease my silent load. And ease it, she truly did. She helped me grasp the truth that brighter times were surely ahead and that I should never stop searching for those perfect days. They’ll most certainly come if you expect them. And when they do come, it's wise to appreciate them in the moment.
Perfection is elusive and fleeting. She’ll embrace your soul and softly lay you in a bed of awestruck wonder one minute, and in an instant, she’ll crush your heart with her unforgiving departure. Love her anyway.
