My dearest friends,
I hope you remember what I look like. Now that hockey season is over, I’ll be looking to hang out and catch up. And I want more than the couple of minutes here and there allowed by the hockey schedule. Actually I’m kind of over the hockey schedule dictating my life and would like to sit down and enjoy a meal and a drink and some conversation that doesn’t involve giving directions to a rink.
I have missed you all.
Thank you so much for standing by me every hockey season and understanding that the hockey schedule requires a certain level of planning only before seen in complex strategic planning situations. Thank you for responding to every random text about hockey with the same level (or nearly so) of enthusiasm as you do about our girls’ nights. I’ll be scheduling one of those soon.
Thank you for celebrating the wins, and navigating the losses with us. You have never failed to meet me where I am, even if where I am is a skating rink in the middle of February.
I apologize for the way my world tends to narrow down during hockey season. I know it’s really the only thing I have to talk about. But I love it and you see that and you humour me. I don’t know what I would do without you. Know that I appreciate you reaching out and sharing your lives with me. I know how I am when it comes to this season and part of me wants to muscle through. The other part knows that I need my people and conversation that doesn’t involve questions about the hockey schedule.
It’s a weird and wonderful kind of friendship, isn’t it, during these years of our kids lives? They are more independent than they were as a toddlers. And they want to have a say in how they spend their time. The nerve. It used to be so easy because they hung out with the kids of my friends and I got time to visit and get a grip on the ever shaky sanity.
Now mine want to do things, like play hockey, that consumes my entire existence because it consumes theirs. It’s not the high needs years anymore, but they still need. They need mom to tie their skates. They need to see me in the stands. You understand it enough to know that it’s important to me because it’s important to them.
Funny thing, I had a hard time making friends as a child and teenager. I was one of those awkward, quiet kids that just didn’t know what to say or how to say it. I’m still awkward and shy and I am definitely not good at small talk. It makes me itchy.
Yet now, rather than being a disadvantage to me, it is one of the qualities you all seem to appreciate about me.
I don’t know where you weirdos came from, but I’m so happy to have found you.
Now, let’s take advantage of the end of hockey season and get that drink that we’ve been talking about for five months, shall we?