Photo by Jessica~
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I think I was all of ten years old when I found freedom in the bowling alley....
My friend, the one that grew up right next door to me, joined the local bowling team and asked me if I could come along with her one Saturday morning. I was surprised when my mother said that I could go.
Stepping foot into that place was a new world for me. I went and watched my friend bowl. I continued to go because I loved the freedom of being there without my mom or dad. I could be in an adult environment, feel like my own person, just for a little while each Saturday morning. That is why I wanted to go, until....
...the day that I actually slipped my fingers into a ball, stood steadily contemplating the right swing of my arm and positioning of my body. I took a few single steps and let her go, right down the center and blowing over the pins. I felt a whole entire new feeling...a feeling of control, of accomplishment and surety.
The next season of Saturday bowling came along and guess who signed up for a team? It was me, with my very own bowling ball, even. I think my mom could see the need I had inside for this little bit of freedom and self control. She found a ball at a yard sale, had it fitted perfectly for me and when it returned to me, my initials were also carved into it.
I was on the local Saturday morning bowling team for a few years, until the next stage of life became apparent....boys.
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"You got to think real hard" he said "see it in your head, believe it can happen! You know how when you want to achieve something real bad and you visualise it first?"
"yeah" I said...
"well then go in there and show' em what you got. 'See' the ball sliding, rolling, heading towards its final destination...sliding, sliding, hitting its aim...STRIKE!!" he had his eyes closed and he was smiling as if he had done the best strike in bowling history.
"OK" I said "can I go in now? I get the point. Strike..."
I took the part for the movie that day...STRIKE for me!
It was a long week filled with anxiety and tension. No one knew if Monday would bring those rumored layoffs. On Friday nights, they entered the bowling alley to get recharged for another uneasy week. Cheers for every strike. Pats on the back for every missed spare. Just regular people hoping to have a paycheck to pay for the next game. The bowling alley was a welcome sanctuary free of worry and doubt. Leave those work worries at the shoe rental desk for now. They came to play.
Daddy always told me about the days when he and momma would go bowling, when they were college grads just married and bowling was about all they could afford on saturday nights. Momma even had her own bowling ball, blue-green just like her eyes.
Her eyes had caught daddy's attention in the first place, so it was only fitting. He had always been a bit of a class clown, she had always been the smart one who studied. They met when they had been paired up for an english project, and always teased me if I talked about some guy who was annoying that I had been paired up with for a school project.
Momma and daddy had spent a lot of their time at the bowling alley, and, I'm fairly certain, had shared a few kisses there too.
Momma and daddy still took us bowling at least once a month, me and my little sisters. They cheered the first time any of us could roll a ball on our own, or got a strike, or broke a score of 100. Being there, it was like the bills and the work week didn't exist.
We always bowled with bumpers, though, for my little sisters. Those reasurring safety nets were always there, ready to send the ball back towards the center if we missed. It was comforting, and even daddy didn't mind it when we laughed at the one-in-a-million time when he needed them too.
When I went away to college, they kept bowling, and I bowled with them whenever I came back to visit. It was certainly different, being away from home, and away from our crazy traditions.
When I met HIM, we had been paired up for a chemistry project, and I almost laughed, because he was the class clown, and I was the smart girl. I thought it was an act of fate when he told me that he couldn't afford much for a date, but loved bowling and wondered if I did too. We went, and for the first time in my life, I bowled without bumpers. I wasn't afraid of falling to the fate of the gutterball anymore. I didn't need a safety net, because I had faced scarier things than that, and I knew there was someone there to catch me, laugh with me, and kiss me gently in the dim lights of that small college-town bowling alley.
I think I was all of ten years old when I found freedom in the bowling alley....
My friend, the one that grew up right next door to me, joined the local bowling team and asked me if I could come along with her one Saturday morning. I was surprised when my mother said that I could go.
Stepping foot into that place was a new world for me. I went and watched my friend bowl. I continued to go because I loved the freedom of being there without my mom or dad. I could be in an adult environment, feel like my own person, just for a little while each Saturday morning. That is why I wanted to go, until....
...the day that I actually slipped my fingers into a ball, stood steadily contemplating the right swing of my arm and positioning of my body. I took a few single steps and let her go, right down the center and blowing over the pins. I felt a whole entire new feeling...a feeling of control, of accomplishment and surety.
The next season of Saturday bowling came along and guess who signed up for a team? It was me, with my very own bowling ball, even. I think my mom could see the need I had inside for this little bit of freedom and self control. She found a ball at a yard sale, had it fitted perfectly for me and when it returned to me, my initials were also carved into it.
I was on the local Saturday morning bowling team for a few years, until the next stage of life became apparent....boys.
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