There’s this relationship I’ve had for about 18 years now. After the initial honeymoon period, it got a bit rocky but lately things have been soooo good. Really promising. My heart is glowing with happiness, food tastes better, the sun seems brighter. Sure there have been some bumps along the road, but nothing we couldn’t handle. Nothing that didn’t just make us stronger and more determined to keep going.
But I’ve been here before. I have experienced these same feelings of joy before, only to have them brutally crushed. I have gone from being on top of the world to utterly defeated, sometimes in a matter of seconds. Over and over again. And yet I keep letting it happen, I keep coming back for more.
Over time, I’ve necessarily had to build up some defenses. I am cautious now; I can’t hand my heart over so easily anymore. I can’t let my hopes rise quite so high, because I know all too well how easily they can come crashing back down.
Yes, hockey love hurts.
The Canucks are now in the Western conference final for the first time in 17 years. I had the horrible realization yesterday that the young’uns who are today cheering on the Canucks in the bars were two when that last happened! Still in diapers!! That made me feel really old. Cause I remember it well and still have the T-shirt. I wear it when I dye my hair.
After so many years of this tough relationship, I may not be quite as naively hopeful as the doe-eyed 12-year old who sat on a curb with her best friend eating cream puffs while eavesdropping on the game from a nearby car-radio, but I’m about as excited. And I have my own couch now.
P.S. The play-off beard continues and we’re well into frightening territory now. Sometimes I jump up in fear when I see this hoodlum approaching me in the house before I realize it’s my husband. And then I get even more scared.