Choochie's game. The mighty Under 6 Whites
The game was a bit messy. They didn't look like a cohesive pack. Their usual 2 coaches, one being the missing Zimbabwean, were absent. There were little legs running this way and that, backwards when they should have been forwards, sideways when they should have been "behind the line!". Who can tell where they should be? I don't know the rules. All I know is that my little Chooch doesn't look so little when his hands are on a rugby ball. He looks impressive. When he has the ball he runs with commitment. He looks the business. He scored 2 tries and Man Of The Match. Yippeeeee!
game two...
Noah's game. The Under 9 Stripes
Noah's game was rough. Big tough tall boys on the opposing team, lots of illegal high tackles from both teams, me on the sideline screaming out "that was a high tackle!" (I want them reprimanded man! The whole point of allowing my feisty little No-No on a rugby field is that there are rules and a referee with a whistle who has the power to SEND PEOPLE OFF (I think I'll be a professional ref in my next life). Anyway, back to my impressive sport reporting... there were elbows and clenched teeth and grunting and quite a bit of attitude coming from one of the smallest kids on the field (ie. mine) but believe me, he possibly has the BIGGEST attitude on the field, which was still simmering when the game came to an end. That boy of mine was right amongst it. At least he's got fire in the belly. O yes. One of his team mates pulled off a movie-like tackle... one minute a red jersey from the opposition was running, running for his try line, the next he was flying sideways through the air. I was glad that wasn't my skinny-legged love.
Well, after all that excitement I needed a little time to breathe. My lovely mother-in-law took over the role of referee back home on the island for a couple of hours while I went to gather food supplies for the coming week. I snuck off to the nearest beach to soak up the last of this Sydney winter's afternoon. Peppermint tea in hand, I watched surfers and listened to crashing waves as the sun warmed my back and I breathed in the essence of the Pacific, remembering all the times that I've done that in this lifetime. I closed my eyes and remembered my favourite rock under a lighthouse and all the times I sat there and watched the ocean as I grew. When I opened my eyes there were two whales breaching in front of me. Right there! Just like that! Two powerful, calm, gentle whales. Tails flicking, leaving a trail as they travelled north, up the coast.
Later the same day, we were headed up the hill of our island for dinner with friends. The sun had set in the most breathtaking winter's dusk, slight breeze coming across the water. Now, as I walked alone up the hill, stars shone above me and up ahead I occasionally caught a glimpse of the flash of my boykies torches. There are no street lights here. To the east and south of the island you can see flickering night lights of neighbouring suburbs, across the water, but on the island, houses hide amongst trees and a blanket of darkness. The dirt road led me up to a house with fire burning, lights glowing, friends speaking light-hearted rubbish and laughing into the night. My boys had found their own way there, reveling in the freedom of running through the dark, away from my gaze. I like finding my own way there through the dark night too.
Yesterday my cup was full. The glory of Sydney winter.
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