Skip to main content

A balancing game?

Growing up in a small town with gravel driveways and gritty asphalt school yards and few sidewalks prevented me from being exposed much to chalk art and hopscotch.  Seeing hopscotch in action only happened when we visited my city grandma.  She lived adjacent to an endless scroll of sidewalk.  City kid neighbours taught me their versions of hopscotch.  I got taught and re-taught and exposed to it in a bunch of different ways...but you know, if there is an official version, I have no idea what it is.
How do you win hopscotch?  What is the goal? Other than balancing on one foot occasionally and alternating feet, is it something more than a coordination activity? I wonder.  Can you tell me?

Maybe it doesn't matter.  Maybe the idea of it and the image of it is all we need to believe in its existence.


Labels:

Comments

  1. CrazyUS3/26/2012 4:53 pm

    I wish I had taken a picture the other day of the longest Hopscotch path (game) I have ever seen. It was amazing and I loved seeing how the blocks became smaller and smaller as the path went along.

    I wish I could remember the rules. I will have to ask my boys when they get home from school. Great picture and thank you for taking me back to my childhood. I really liked the feeling.

    ReplyDelete
  2. MotherOfGooses3/26/2012 6:03 pm

    I like that phrase "hopscotch path", lovely. I am looking forward to hearing their versions of the rules.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A 5 minute challenge

WifeMotherExpletive  extended an invitation I could not refuse: " Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking" on the word, Real . real is what I always strive to be.  in a hurry to be as real as possible, I've overlooked so much.  I have denied myself things that would have helped me understand things better.  real, but real for who? as I age, I want to be more real to me because I suspect that there will be many surprises. hard to believe that I will be surprised since I have lived with myself for 36 , going on 37 years, but I don't doubt it for one minute.  Honesty is where I falter.  I can achieve "real" (does it qualify as real if it is in quotation marks) but it may not be true.  In general, I want things to be tied up in a package and smooth even it is too jagged to fit.  I want this, I know that to be real, it cannot happen but I think true is what I need to really aim for.  I know some things are tru...
Post a Comment
Read more

the words fell out

 Despite being an introvert, I do often process big life events (and many many small ones) out loud by verbally hashing out my thoughts with whoever will put up with me. But this morning when I woke up to the big red blotch on the U.S. map...all my /the words fell out.  They fell out unsaid, unformed. Got to work and probably , in another time, would have annoyed my co-workers, dominating the conversation with my verbal extrusions, but not today. I just mutely stared across at them and nodded. My dad came for lunch.  Normally, we relish a good political diatribe, especially when we feel sure of our perspective, but this time, all I could do was munch on fries and marvel at all the unarticulated thoughts that I was not even bothering to retrieve. The silence inside me was noticeable.  Social media was awash with reactions and I just looked away. I couldn't bear to read one word about it. I was not receptive to any reactions,  accusations, reflections,  words...
Post a Comment
Read more

Bringing her back

 As the first anniversary finally passed, I exhaled.  The sadness still nibbled away at the edges, but not clawing deep into my chest like it had been with varying degrees of ferocity in the twelve months previously.  She died in early summer, so I plunged into ocean and lakes and ate fruit straight from the plant.  The grief became softer, the folk songs carried me along in the potato patch we planted in therapy. But then, I started to miss her.  The deep grief kept her so close and now as the pressure eased, so did her presence.  I held my breath and decided to be really sad this morning just to see her face.  To sit in her prescence.  My breath became jagged as I cried for her, for us.   This Taylor Swift cover  by Marc Maron broke me right open this morning.  Here's to staying broken open enough to keep your loved ones close. And then, I walked into her garden. The garden she envisionied, planted over and over and still pre...
Post a Comment
Read more