Those trophies I once sought and savored sat on the shelf collecting dust until I finally realized how little they mattered to me and threw them out....with a huge sigh of relief....
Whether I won or lost a game never really mattered to me.
As I was out on my daily walk yesterday, dodging ice patches and stepping over snow drifts, I was taken back in a bit of a dreamwalk to my youth, and I remembered how I approached any game I played. I remembered playing monopoly one night where I went bankrupt and had a bit of a fit. But it wasn't because I lost the game. It was because I was eliminated from playing the game any further. I felt like I was missing out on the fun.
My brother, Steve, who was ten years older than me, used to say I often beat him playing checkers--and it wasn't because he let me. I don't really remember that. I just remember enjoying the game with whomever would play with me.
I grew up on a farm in southwestern North Dakota (USA) so we had long winters where we occupied ourselves playing card games like Pinochle, Whist, Canasta, Speed, Uno, various versions of Rummy, etc. I don't remember my wins, but I do remember a lot of laughing and simply having fun. I recognized patterns fairly easily, but not to the extent of caring enough to count cards. Often, I remember bidding way too high on my hand in a Pinochle game just for the heck of it to see how it played out. Of course, I lost most of those.
There were enough siblings, along with their mates, in our family to play volleyball on warm, sunny days. Again, I don't recall a single score. What I remember is the joy that came with keeping the volleys going back and forth over the net. And the hilarity of my brother, Tim, ripping holes in his jeans as he'd nose-dive to the ground in an attempt to keep the ball in the air. Again, there was a whole lot of laughter.
When I was dating my first boyfriend we'd spend weekend evenings playing a homemade game called Marbles (similar to Aggravation). My sister-in-law partnered with me against Tim and Arlen, and the antics that ensued were rollicking good fun. Those two guys would kill one another off in a strategic attempt to best us girls. Sometimes it worked. And when it didn't, and we took out one of their marbles, they came up with the very picturesque adage of "being caught with their pants down." You probably had to be there. The funny thing is, we weren't drinking anything stronger than Pepsi--and those two guys were entertaining as all get out. They are some of my best memories from those days.
None of it matters, not really....
My true awakening realization occurred in the final days and moments I had with my dad as he used the story of death by lung cancer to exit this world. I realized that all the wins and losses in relationships, finances, education, health, government, politics, religion--well--none of it mattered at all. It was just a game where ultimately the score didn't matter. It was a conglomeration of stories of experiences. And, on some level, I enjoyed playing every single part of it....and....I was grateful for the opportunity to just play....
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