When Nik got into town, the weather was wonderful. I decided I needed to play tennis with him.
It's a terrible hardship, since it's ten miles away, and I'd rather be home in my jammies, behind a good book. But I love tennis, and I only play once a year, with Nik, and given the state of my shoulders, knees and other various body parts, each time may be the last time.
And since Nik doesn't play either, he's good but not so good that he's bored. I don't think. After all, a couple of years ago he said to me something like, "I don't even want to think of what it would be like if your knees were working." High praise from the boy. I live for that.
So in the car, I gave him my iPod and he found the soundtrack from Delovely. We don't talk much when we're together. So we sang to the score.
On the court, after some initial stiffness, all the body parts were working. He was playing well, but since I actually fell over my tennis shoes some years ago and did a scary thing to my back, I move slower, try to think more about what I'm doing. Let my brain get to the ball, and everything else will follow.
So I managed to put up a little fight, actually won three games.
Listening to Cole Porter on the way home. It was a good time.
We walked into the house, he headed for his room, me for the kitchen...
and together burst into the refrain from "Night and Day."
When you have a grown son, it just doesn't get much better than that.
