Giant Steps

Linda and I sit and chat at our concrete picnic table here on Padre Island (just outside Corpus Christi, Texas) about, well, just things.

The guys -- my husband and hers -- circle about our motorhome. Like they are chained to each other, talking to each other, not us. About their RVs  (they own similar models). They point at this door, that window; they get on their bellies and look up at the vehicle's belly.

They bob here and there in constant chatter.

Suddenly, they woosh  past us, within inches of us and Stomp Stomp.  The guys, in two giant speedy steps, clear nearly four feet to light atop the picnic table. Now they talk about the things on top of the motorhome.

They do this without so much as a deep refreshing breath.  They step, one foot after the other, and STOMP STOMP! They land atop the picnic table.

Linda and I gasp. DID YOU SEE THAT? I couldn't do that. THEY JUST STEPPED UP! Hard to believe. LIKE IT WAS NOTHING! I couldn't do that without holding on to something. I CAN"T IMAGINE CLIMBING UP THAT FAAAST! They got up there with no effort. NO WAY COULD I DO THAT.

The guys focus so intently on their project they miss our gasps. They miss our surprise.

And they miss my plan to STOMP STOMP up there, too.

I start a ways back and take a running stomp stomp. AND I MAKE IT! A little wobbly. But HA HA! SUCCESS!

Now what?

There's no reason for me to be up here. It's kinda boring because I'm not talking RVs. And, frankly, I feel stupid standing on top of a concrete picnic table. So, I get down (with Linda's help) and we shrug at the uselessness of my effort.

Then, as usual, my moment up there becomes an  epiphany.

I realize they guys scaled the table effortlessly because it was just a play in their game. They're still playing, and scoring loads of fun.

My effort WAS the game.