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The time of day and the time of year passing through my windshield tonight gave me a definite realization:
I was pretty happy to NOT be roasting inside a press box with no a/c, squinting against the sun, battling the sweat in my eyes, trying to find an accurate copy of the opposing team's roster, wondering what last name was going to trip me up, and worrying about every technical thing that could go wrong no matter how low the odds.
I may occasionally miss the excitement, moreso maybe the comforting feeling you get when you're in the zone and you know it, when describing whatever happens in front of you is as natural as breathing ... but I definitely don't miss all the things that you had to go through to get there.
Ultimately I aged out. If I was a car I'd be high mileage, bad tires, leaking oil, and in dire need of a paint job. I'm okay with that really, we all hit our limit at some point. I'm honestly kinda relieved that I knew when mine arrived.
But when the temperature is just so, and the sun is at a certain angle, and it's a certain time of day in September, I do still remember.
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"I lit another cigarette. Unless I specifically inform you to the contrary, I am always lighting another cigarette." - from a novel by Martin Amis
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