Snapshots of a Modest Life

Bruises

There are a lot of things I miss about playing soccer. The feel of the grass beneath my cleats, the rush I get when I make a good save, the tingle of my fingers in my gloves when the ball smacks them and doesn't bounce off, the soreness in my muscles after a hard practice, the camaraderie with my teammates. But what I miss the most are the bruises, picking myself up off the ground after colliding with someone and saying, "man, that's going to bruise!" Or waking up the next morning with an aching little spot of black and blue wondering where did that come from? but knowing that I earned it. Bruises are a badge of courage, screaming "Look what I did, I earned this! This is where some girl slid into me and I still got the ball! This is where I took a kick!"

I got a bruise yesterday. It wasn't from playing soccer. I hit my knee on the edge of the grocery bag turnstyle at Walmart. This bruise is a badge that says, "look at me, I'm a klutz!"