A few weeks ago, on a rainy Friday afternoon, I was reminded of the tagline of my blog: “life, love, and getting to the rink on time”. Then I was reminded that I have a blog, and I really should, umm, BLOG, on occasion….so here goes.
On this particular Friday afternoon, I found myself in the drivers’ seat of my minivan, in the rink parking lot, sobbing. What got me to that point? Well it was a little life, a lot of love, and, of course, a lack of getting to the rink on time.
I started that day with a couple of things on my agenda: visit my fabulous Granny at the hospital in Providence after her mascectomy/reconstruction…if you know my Granny you aren’t surprised that she happened to have breast cancer during the month of October when it is uber fashionable.
I also wanted to visit my Uncle Duffy in the hospital in Boston. He was gravely ill, well, dying really, of Pulmonary Fibrosis, a disease that only seems fashionable in my family. I had seen him the weekend before on my way home from a hockey tournament, naturally, and had planned on going back. I had told him I would be back. This is a lot easier than saying good bye. Love
Surprisingly, but then not that surprisingly, Granny was being released early from the hospital. At 82 years of age they were releasing her the day after a major surgery. The lady is a rockstar. That freed up some time for the 3rd patient of the day…my dog Lola. I don’t know why but after months of itching and days of a nasty looking ear, I decided today was the day I would squeak out a vet appotment. It took forever, it cost a fortune, and I got a late start to Boston. Then it started dowpouring. Life
My navigation loves to take me thru the rougher areas of town- the ghetto, for lack of a better term. I am pretty much ok with it, because I truly believe in my Odyssey, and because I always get places faster than other suckers who use Garmins and other crap GPS’s. But this day there were just too many lights in the ghetto, and I got tired of stopping at them, so I followed the guy in front of me through what I would call an “orange” light. I was then pulled over by a charming Boston Police Officer. He held me up for 15 minutes before giving me a written warning. I wasn’t making good time. (Not) getting to the rink on time.
Before I went into the hospital, I called my best girl Amy. She was going to have to back me up. Only a special hockey mom is willing to go to your house, get your kids, feed them, and then actually drop them at another rink, even when she has her own rink to get to. If you don’t have friends like this, than I suggest you find some. Or call me, I’ll have your back. Love.
That afternoon at the hospital I visited with cousins, had a chocolate croissant at Au Bon Pain, and met my friend’s brother’s new bride (I recognized her from the wedding photos on Facebook and introduced myself- yeah I’m a weirdo like that). Also, I saw my uncle that day. Ever so briefly. He was tired and getting weak. I told him about the cop who pulled me over but didn’t give me a ticket. He said “your lucky.” (yes I am, in too many ways to count). I told him I loved him very much and he said “I love you very much.” That was worth the trip. I drove home in Friday afternoon traffic out of Boston in the pouring rain. I raced and raced in the way you do when you are trying to get to the rink on time. I didn’t. But I didn’t cry until I got to the parking lot.
Life, Love and getting to the rink on time.