Park Games

We unpack the bag with the game, and I hope it will go better than it did with the kite. (Those puffs of wind that cooled us weren't enough to keep it afloat for long.)

I give a gentle toss, and we search for where the little, white ball lands. Our eyes squint as we differentiate dandelions past their prime from the top of the ball in the tall, sturdy crabgrass.

There. 

With our target in sight we take turns throwing.

Red.

Black.

Red.

Black.

My competitive side aches to win while the rest of me savors the sunshine, the breeze, and the company as we take turns getting points. 

An uninvited tick joins us - we take it as our cue to leave. 

As we pull away I realize I don't remember who won. I remember instead the joy, laughter, and relaxation as the pressures of life melted away in the summer sun while we played Boccie ball next to the lake. 

I'm sure that means we all won in the end.