July had arrived. Not of a thousand Julys as the song went, but this July.
Anna was playing tennis with her friend Janet. It was a hot July day and the friends had been playing tennis together for the last 10 years. The thermometer hovered at 85 degrees. The sun was a golden globe high above. They finished the last game and headed for the showers.
It would be a pleasant afternoon sipping cold iced tea from the veranda of the club. As old friends do, they sat in companionable reflection over the last few years and all that had happened. Both had survived rocky periods of life and had emerged on the other side both stronger in resolve and more able to savor life’s happy moments.
Anna had buried her loving husband of 33 years. He died quickly of a heart attack so for that at least, he did not suffer long. Their only child had flown in from San Diego and comforted his mother as well as other family loved ones. Her husband had requested cremation so those rites were accorded. Fortunately, their finances were strong so Anna had no worries in that regard. She missed her best friend, but had to continue living. How does one live with a broken heart, she wondered?
Janet had lost a son in the never-ending struggles in the Middle East. He was only 19 years old. Serving in a useless war. The Russians had been in Afghanistan for 10 years and warned America that it was unwise to go in there because another power could never win. The Russians had depleted both human and military resources and left in failure. Did anyone listen, Janet thought? She felt bitter at times thinking what sense did it make to wage war in such a God-forsaken mountainous region? Why?
With time as the great healer, Janet thought through all of this and came to realize that she could not change the world. She could only change her own thinking. So she choose to live life in the best way she knew how. She learned to pray for the repose of her son’s soul. She and her husband found great solace in their faith and in one another.
The history of tennis goes back to monastic cloisters in the 12th Century. The games were first created by European monks for entertainment reasons during religious ceremonies. Tennis balls used to be filled with dirt or sawdust or sand or chalk materials. Victorian ladies and gentlemen played on grass courts. Tennis was first played in the United States on the estate of William Appleton in Nahant, Mass. in 1874.
The day was fast descending.
The seagulls overhear kept their squawking flight. It was a July sound and delightful. More ice for the tea and more lemons. They decided it was time for a lettuce-strawberry salad and a side order of parmesan pasta. Everything tasted great because they were quite hungry from their two-hour tennis game. They might even indulge in a cherry-chocolate cupcake. Yes, that would be most fitting!
They talked about scheduling another game in two weeks and making it a doubles with both their husbands. “Won’t that be fun,” said Janet? “I wonder if they can outlast us,” replied Anna. That brought both women to laughter as they knew their men were in top form and were prone to exercise a little too much rather than not at all. It would be they who would have to step up their game.
Having finished the last of their meals, they rose to leave. Both had driven their own cars so they parted company and both drove home. It had been a most satisfying afternoon. Anna’s new husband was cooking steaks on the grill when she arrived home. Janet’s husband was out on the golf course and would not be home for several hours. Such pleasant interludes in the storms of life, thought Anna. Such a resplendent July day, thought Janet.
Were it ever thus. Could it ever be replicated? Of course, and in only two weeks time, it would be replicated.