Joel went to check his bag and left me to watch his laptop and carry-on. I’m sorry for talking about all these people you don’t know. It must feel like it felt for me that first day of training camp, as I walked by the big, open tent after getting to camp late, that blue and white striped tent with 20 picnic tables and 90 people underneath.
It was so dark we could hardly see each other’s faces, except when underneath the bright, shop lights, and even then they were covered with shadows. We had the same conversation 88 times (sometimes more when we forgot we had already met someone):
“Hey, how’s it going?” one friendly, chipper person would ask another friendly, chipper person.
“Good! I’m Joe,” they would say, extending their hand.
“Nice to meet you! I’m Drea.” There were lots of smiles, discernable even through the shadows. “Where you from?”
“Santa Barbara, California. You?”
“Arizona.”
“Oh really? Where about?”
“All over really. Phoenix, Tempe…”
“Tucson?”
“No! That’s like the armpit of Arizona!”
“What?! My sister lives in Tucson!”
“Then I’m sorry for her.”
“Good! I’m Joe,” they would say, extending their hand.
“Nice to meet you! I’m Drea.” There were lots of smiles, discernable even through the shadows. “Where you from?”
“Santa Barbara, California. You?”
“Arizona.”
“Oh really? Where about?”
“All over really. Phoenix, Tempe…”
“Tucson?”
“No! That’s like the armpit of Arizona!”
“What?! My sister lives in Tucson!”
“Then I’m sorry for her.”
I hope that you get to know my new family through these blog posts, even if it is incompletely, even if it is as though their faces are covered with shadows. Maybe they will become your family. Maybe they already are.
Go to PART 3, A New Home.
