Just a whiff of the 40s in Chicago and the sporting gear's in the trunk; dad and son are already up to no good. There's been some letting go this weekend [I parted with my French beard of many years] and some learning anew [Aakash made his first jump shot with NCAA size basketball and standard height hoop]. It’s time for renewal, it’s already Spring.
Ten years from now, when he starts calling me old man [gently, I hope] and is confiding [in full, I hope] more to mom about teen angst, I wish the sporting bond survives. That we can still pick up the tennis racket or the soccer ball and it’ll feel like time had stood still. For now, as summer nears; let there be, not just forehand volleys but also verbal volleys; that I’m able to coach not just his love for the game but also a love of the language; that he feels just at home with power words as with power strokes.
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