To go or not to go

To go or not to go.

I started the week in a bit of a quandary. Last week I had summoned enough courage to join in a Volleyball on Sand meetup, my first of such participation, where individuals with similar interests band together via an online portal and actually get together to pursue their interest as a group.

It was the first time in more than a decade that I had played Volleyball. I had to jump, spike and dig.  Sometimes diving even to try and salvage a wayward ball. I felt the full force of the years creaking in my aging body.  After the game, tail between my legs, I had resolved to say good bye to the game. I was quite sure that last week’s volleyball meetup would be my first and last. 

I later shared this with my best friend J over breakfast. But he advised me not to give up. You should persist. Don’t give up so easily.

He was right. It was not like I had torn my muscles or broken some bones. Why should I balk at playing again?  Yes, my joints were aching for days after the game. But what should I expect, from my long years of inactivity? No pain, no gain. And I should know that very well.  Sure, my ego took a bruising as I was rusty from the long years of layoff but why should I care what the other Meet-up groupies think? I could only improve if I continue playing more.

So come Tuesday, armed with renewed confidence, I made my way to the sand pit again and joined in to play. As I had expected, I was more relaxed and performed better.

Volleyball on Sand in action

Volleyball aficionados.  I was not in the picture, having left earlier.
 

Over the week, the good got even better.

I had some weeks earlier also registered for an Open Microphone meetup group. That event was to happen on Thursday evening, at a small restaurant downtown. The Meetup had about 20 members who had signed up via the portal. As expected, the members who turned up were a mix of yuppies, young working adults and even a few college kids.  I would again enjoy the dubious honour of being the most senior in age, youthful only at heart. But I sort of expected that from the start as Meetups are a relatively new trend and older folks are always slower, playing catch-up.

But if there was an age divide for this Open Mic meetup, I did not feel it.  Most of the people turning up were also first-timers so everyone was all-smiles, friendly and polite. My initial awkwardness melted as soon as we started chatting.  We were united by at least one thing – our common love for music, so the evening started with a lot of social blathering and sharing of musical interests.

As far as music talent was concerned, my younger meetup groupies showed far greater maturity than me. Each took turn to sing or play an instrument. We had a ball of a time and continued singing and jamming till close to mid-night. 

Chilling out on a musical get-together

Friday evening found me again sticking out like a sore thumb. There was a huge party thrown by the university to celebrate the hard work and sacrifices made by all our student leaders and I was invited for the sake of building staff-student rapport.  And what else could we expect from student leaders? The rah-rah energy level was raised to a crescendo as the students showed off their mettle and talents. I was but an awe-struck spectator.  Thankfully, the buffet spread was good.

I left the student leader’s party before it ended and took a short walk around the shopping complex before getting back to the car. Downtown, Friday night. Many couples were out in force, most walking hand in hand.  While watching my students sing, dance and prancing around on stage, my mind was already drifting back to Jenny.

How I miss her. 

The week was chockfull of work matters and I had plugged in some of the evenings with meetup activities to play volleyball and strumming the guitar with a bunch of would-be strangers.  It might sound like I am finding a new course in life to make up for my loss of Jenny.

If Jenny is alive, she might even be pleased. I am pretty sure she would not mind me passing my time and getting into such social indulgences, though it is doubtful she would endorse the volleyball part.  She would be extremely anxious that I would injure myself.  But I do not think Meetups would appeal to her. She was not one who would feel terribly comfortable amongst unfamiliar company, whom she is not accustomed to.

I had in the past stayed out late on my own many times, for work or for other social engagements, returning back home only in the wee hours of the night.  But there was always her to return home to.  If it was not too late, I would find her laid back, relaxing on the couch, playing her iPad games or watching her favourite Korean drama. Or she could be already sleeping snugly in bed. I would gently steal a kiss on her cheek to let her know I was home.  The sight of her was such a source of comfort I had taken so much for granted.

Now she would not be there when I return home. I felt shitty all over again. 

Jenny had passed on some 19 weeks ago. I should be used to her absence by now.  But that does not make me feel less miserable.

I went home, cleaned up and took a light supper before curling into bed to sleep.