What is her Story?

I’ve been playing Pickleball for about two or the years now. No, that doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing.

I’m not shy about announcing to anyone on any PB court that I am here to have fun and get exercise.

Playing at the Y this morning with my new friend, Jane, we found ourselves up against all men, and they knew what they were doing.

Some of them men enjoyed our not-on-purpose-antics, misses, as well as a few cuss words. And some of the men did not.

Jane and I got more advice and suggestions on how to play the game than could possibly be written in a book. I guess us not-so-good helpless females needed big, strong, tough men to show us what we were doing wrong.

We just laughed about it even more.

I met Jane while playing PB with our local senior center. When I joined the senior center about 3 years ago, there were so many people participating in so many activities, that I couldn’t keep all of their names straight.

Just so it’s understood, I’m not good at small talk, I want to play PB, and go home. I’m learning the game and don’t have a high tolerance for really, really bad players…although I’m not great myself. But I’m learning and taking constructive criticism as well as finding that I play much better when I play against highly ranked players in our group. But late last summer I learned a valuable lesson and it wasn’t about PB.

Every time I played with Jane as my partner or against her, she made a lot of mistakes. But it’s what she did when she made a mistake. She shout something like, “Oh man,” or several other common sayings we all say when we make a mistake. I actually found myself drawn to her self-deprecating comments about her game playing. I laughed along with her. This was uncharted territory for me.

Pretty soon we were making small talk. She has a shyness about her and when she asked me for my phone number so we could text, she followed that up with, “If that’s ok with you.” I found that anytime she asked me a question, personal or otherwise, she followed it up with asking me if I minded and that she didn’t want to be intrusive.

Since I find people interesting, as well as quirky, I like to try and understand what makes them tick. Pretty soon Jane and I were texting a couple times a week. But there’s something going on with her that I just can’t put my finger on.

About two months ago we started meeting for a mid-day coffee about every other week. We shared some of our history with each other and I got the impression that she doesn’t have many friends.

Jane is warm, caring, a good listener, and I enjoy her company. She is also opposite of me regarding our interests and hobbies. And she’s had a hard life.

Some of the things she has told me raise many questions in my mind but I don’t want to be intrusive. She’ll tell me if and when she wants to. I feel comfortable sharing my life with her…more comfortable than I have ever felt with anyone else.

So earlier in this writing I mentioned I learned something valuable. It’s not necessary for me to know all the details of Jane’s life story…just being there to talk to her and be a friend is enough. She is unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

Deep down I feel there’s a great story in her life but for the time being, we’ll have coffee, share, and drive those hot shot PB players crazy with our shenanigans.

You never know what someone is going through…so always be nice.