So the game is going on right now. Right now, right this very minute, Boston is lording it over Vancouver by a score of 4-0. It hurts. It hurts probably more than it should, and I'm no doubt getting far more worked up over this than I should be, but there you have it. I am attempting to salvage the situation by reminding myself that a Game 7 in Vancouver, win OR lose, is going to be so much more epic than a Game 6 in Boston. Still. My altogether-too-easily-bruised hockey heart is aching right now.
It's a good thing magic still exists in the world ...
Tonight, at about 5 minutes or so into the 1st period (so, AFTER Boston had scored the first goal--maybe the 1st two goals--but before the soul-crunching clinch of those last two pucks in the net), I saw a deer in the backyard. It was creeping across the back field, and the dog (lovable suck that she is) was barking most ferociously at it. Normally, when my dog sees deer in the back, she barks enough to send the deer scampering back into the bush. But for some reason, this doe seemed ... intrigued, maybe? At any rate, she actually inched her way closer and closer to the house, all the while staring at the dog. Almost as if she wanted to step up and make friends. And I watched her move so slow across the grass, her legs long and slender and cautious as the crowd screamed in ecstasy in Boston. Noise on the TV, and quiet so strong you could touch it, out there on the porch. And it reminded me, just when I needed reminding, of the fact that so much unbelievable beauty exists in the world. It was definitely a moment worth rejoicing over.
This became especially evident three minutes later, when Boston secured a four-goal lead. Sigh.
Oh well. Luongo -- I still believe in you. Ditto Schneider (Schneiderman, oh Schneiderman, does whatever a Schneider can ... ). In fact, you boys might inspire an epic hockey-related post in the next few days. Guess we'll have to see how Wednesday's game turns out.
And in the meantime, there are deer in my backyard, with their dainty legs and quivering, timid eyes.
It's a good thing magic still exists in the world ...
Tonight, at about 5 minutes or so into the 1st period (so, AFTER Boston had scored the first goal--maybe the 1st two goals--but before the soul-crunching clinch of those last two pucks in the net), I saw a deer in the backyard. It was creeping across the back field, and the dog (lovable suck that she is) was barking most ferociously at it. Normally, when my dog sees deer in the back, she barks enough to send the deer scampering back into the bush. But for some reason, this doe seemed ... intrigued, maybe? At any rate, she actually inched her way closer and closer to the house, all the while staring at the dog. Almost as if she wanted to step up and make friends. And I watched her move so slow across the grass, her legs long and slender and cautious as the crowd screamed in ecstasy in Boston. Noise on the TV, and quiet so strong you could touch it, out there on the porch. And it reminded me, just when I needed reminding, of the fact that so much unbelievable beauty exists in the world. It was definitely a moment worth rejoicing over.
This became especially evident three minutes later, when Boston secured a four-goal lead. Sigh.
Oh well. Luongo -- I still believe in you. Ditto Schneider (Schneiderman, oh Schneiderman, does whatever a Schneider can ... ). In fact, you boys might inspire an epic hockey-related post in the next few days. Guess we'll have to see how Wednesday's game turns out.
And in the meantime, there are deer in my backyard, with their dainty legs and quivering, timid eyes.
I seriously hope that Vancouver can whip Boston's butt in game 7. I'm a Penguin's fan, but since we didn't make it nearly as far in the playoffs as the Canucks did, I'm cheering for Vancouver. And that deer sounds beautiful! :)
ReplyDeleteHi Madeline,
ReplyDeleteIt was beautiful! And I'm seriously hoping for some butt-whipping in Vancouver too.
If nothing else, though -- sure was a heck of a series. But one can always hope. :)
Your paragraph about the deer and the juxtaposition of chaos and quiet...I loved that. I also love your awareness of it. You were really present in the moment.
ReplyDeleteThere is always hope. Anything can happen. Anything. I love the feeling of almost reckless abandon that gives me. There is, so often, little or nothing to lose. And so often, surprisingly, much to gain.
Go BRUINS!!!
ReplyDeleteRidiculous! I thought you didn't even WATCH hockey!
ReplyDelete