Sunday, July 18, 2010

Holding Court

Not many places can put me at utter ease, aside from the spa when my mind has been massaged to a sleep coma so that my body has a chance of rejuvenation. Apart from the stillness of the massage table, the tennis court magically creates serenity for me.

I guess without even knowing it, tennis became my therapy many years ago. Something about stepping on the court allows me to zone in and completely focus on the small, round neon yellow ball. Something about the freshly brushed green clay and the neatly lined white tape that makes me feel at peace. The court is a place where I am able to forget about him and her, financial woes, and life's pestering questions.

It is on the court that I have experienced so many of my favorite moments. It is where I saw my father first shed tears of joy and excitement. It is where I came back from a 3rd set 0-5, love-40 defecit in the most thrilling match of my life and turned a W. It is where I appropriately fist pump after an intense cross court rally of forehands where I then rip it down the line for a winner.

But like Serena's Wimbledon, I have my own home court advantage. It sits right in my backyard. It is on this court that I learned to serve and volley thanks to many hours of serving baskets. It is always where I learned the skill of ball placement accredited to my dad. It is where even at midnight with the lights only highlighting the court I am able to find solitude. It is here that I have expressed anger, frustration, excitement, and joy. On the court, I have been faced with adversity, risen above the challenges, and generated success.

It is my home.

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