I love to play. I always have, first as a little kid, playing kick the can and tag and knocking on my friend Billy’s door asking if he could come out and play. As a teenager I played with basketballs and baseballs, and as a father I played often with my eager children. As I’m aging, I’m finding it harder and harder to find playmates. No one is interested in following me out the backdoor. They say they are too busy or it’s too warm or too cold outside or they have two bad knees.
That doesn’t stop me. I still shoot free throws, pretending the game’s in overtime, or throw a baseball in the air and act like it’s a high pop fly. I face off in tennis against the garage door and throw the football through the tire swing long abandoned by my grandchildren.
Where’s Billy when I need him?