Darkness

I've been going and playing tennis with a friend at a park not too far from campus. We always end up there at night, because, well, we're college students. The courts are lit, but the floodlights don't drown out the darkness. When we're within the confines of the fenced courts it feels safe; the world can't get to us, there's chain link fences and green mesh, a veritable shield from outside danger. It wasn't creepy going there when we played inside the fence, under the lights. More recently we've been going and hitting on the practice wall, because let's face it, I'm not very good at tennis. The practice wall is not within the fence, but next to it. It is only half illuminated by the lights, enough to play by, but not enough to feel safe. There's no fence either. Having no ball control and an absolutely horrid backhand, I find myself venturing beyond the practice wall and into the increasing darkness of the area behind it. It's a park, so it is relatively open, but there are trees and shadows. Lots and lots of shadows.

The first time I went back there I was creeped out. A lot. More than a lot. I walked slowly, turning my head from side to side, my tennis racket firmly gripped in my right hand. I don't know what I was looking for, something to jump out of the shadows maybe; an errant pet, a homeless person. I moved quickly, looking down only to pick up a ball. The second time I went back there I was still cautious, I loosed my grip on the racket, and I turned my head looking for fuzzy green balls and not something that might kill me. With each subsequent trip to the back side of the wall I became more and more comfortable. I quit looking so hard, I began toying with my racket as I walked. I didn't dread the trips back there so much.