The Secret

I am alone.  I'm here 45 minutes early because the coach said so.  Where is he anyway?  I've been sitting here for 15 minutes because I'm too lazy to leave and, besides, where would I go?  There are a few other players here but no parents.  Where did they go?  It's like they're all in on some secret parental code that I don't have access to.  Or maybe they live closer than I do and they are enjoying a quick bite to eat in their warm kitchen while I freeze my pants off.

Speaking of pants, I wish I'd worn them.  It was 75 today and I went for a run before we left so I'm in my little Lululemon skirt and suddenly it's not Lululemon skirt weather.  The sun went down and I forgot how gosh-awful windy it is out here.

I'm hunched over on myself, trying to capitalize on my own body heat while I type this out on my phone because I'm that crazy.  Shiver.  Curse you iPhone for not having swiping as an option.

Still alone.  8 lacrosse players.  No coach.  It is now 15 minutes pre game.

Maybe the other parents are sitting in their cars.  Smart.  Is that part of the secret code?

This place is right next to the interstate and therefore is windy like you can't believe.  At least that's my theory.  It's either that or it's located at the center of some permanent wind vortex in Chesterfield County.  There is a roll of abandoned turf over there and I'm tempted to cover myself with it.  At this point it wouldn't be any weirder than sitting here freezing by myself.  Plus I'm desperate.

Damn you elementary school dads night.  You and your warm, loud gym, while I sit here freezing. My right forefinger is numb and turning white.

Maybe they went to get coffee.  Those parents.

I think I'm losing brain function and my left thumb is starting to lose its accuracy.

You know, this is love.  My son adores lacrosse and I adore him so here I am.

At the wrong field.

Sent from my iPhone


Hahaha, sounds like something I would do!

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