Yesterday should have been a very, very sad day in our house.
Except… it wasn’t.
Our beloved hockey team’s season ended too short once again.
Some of you are relieved. Others are happy. And a rather large selection of you so-called friends are ridiculously happy that us doomed Canuck faithful are sentenced to yet another painful ending.
I love you. But I don’t understand you.
(Don’t worry, you don’t need to explain. I will never understand you. Or, that part of you, at least.)
But there are a few who today, like me, are sad, somewhat confused, and yet… okay.
It’s only a game, of course.
But a great game.
(High fives to all who agree.)
I’m just trying not to hang on too tight.
A friend of ours said these words as we celebrated with them this week. After years of hard work and manifold bends in the road, they are in a positive, hopeful, great place. So great, in fact, they can’t bear to think that right now might not last for the rest of their lives.
But they’re old enough to know better.
These past few days I’ve wondered if I have a stamp on my forehead that says, my life’s a little intense right now, so please make it harder, if you can. I’m so sure this sign exists – perhaps even has blinking lights around it – that the edginess of a few weeks ago looks happy in comparison to the feisty, cynical bark escaping me now.