This morning I searched through "the final box" that still remained unopened after the divorce. It wasn't as though I was avoiding the box, although perhaps I was, it was more that I thought I knew what was inside. My memory was that it was only filled with sporting goods, but today I discovered it held more.
This journey began last week when Cousin Diana, my neighbor Matt and I discovered that we all love racquetball. Diana found a court at UC Berkeley and today was our mini-tournament. It was only after our match that Matt revealed he had "studied with the State of Maine Racquetball Champion". Despite his pedagogy, Diana and I were able to score a few points. Of course, he paced his game to meet our abilities - Diana's at a much higher level than mine. Who knew she was a butt-kicking racquetball player?
This is one of my favorite sports but I had forgotten that I actually owned a racket and all the necessary gear, until after today's game. When we arrived back at the apartment, Matt and I ventured down to my storage unit so that I could explore "the final box". Inside was racquetball gear from when I lived in Salinas (two lifetimes ago), plus tennis rackets, bike supplies, a frisbee, and my rollerblades (recently replaced when Matt and I found a free pair of the exact same skates, in my size, discarded at the curb after a yardsale).
Today's opening of "the final box" was no coincidence, it coincides with clearing out the cobwebs in my heart.