Wyatt got invited to practice with the high school basketball team tonight. Even though the invite came very inconveniently during my office open house and 10 minutes before he had to be across town, the look on his face was, "You can't let me down here." Thanks to my parents who raced out of there, came home to get his basketball shoes, and delivered that kid to his version of heaven.
Loretta and I caught the last few minutes, and it was the highlight of my day. Yes to being in our bodies, to all the physical, earthy moments that offer themselves up to us. What a thrill.
King of the Court
I'd wither out there
in that land of shirts and skins,
covering the court in a few giant strides
every eye on you and whether you can stop the shot
or make it, your bony chest heaving
with pure concentration and delight.
Son, I don't have to tell you
you're king of this court. There's nothing--
nothing--I'd rather do than lean against the wall,
tired, car keys in my pocket,
and watch your electric aliveness ,
see you being in that body that came from mine,
that came from the fires of the universe
and will someday return to them,
probably with a basketball in hand.