Sadness...
Thursday, November 1st, 2007 07:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
auntbijouOne of my soccer kids was killed in an accident last night.
He played for the high school team, and was one of those who had to quit playing in our local rec league, because he wanted to play in college, and in order for college scouts to see him, he needed to play in a Select league, which we don't have enough kids for here. So, he was playing in San Marcos. But, he refereed for the younger kids here, and had a real rapport with them. It wasn't that he talked a lot, but he'd play with them, and interact with them, and they all followed him around like little ducks. More than a few of the girls (and some of the boys) at my daughter's level had crushes on him, which always made the games he refereed for them interesting. They'd either play really well ... or fall all over themselves.
When the Husbandly One was on his way home from work yesterday, he had to detour when he was almost to our town, because the highway was blocked off. The last time that happened was two years ago, when a propane truck was overturned, and the tank had come loose and they were worried about a potential spill, so he figured it was something similar.
No. It was Colt.
Mr. Fireman came and told me while I was sitting out on candy duty. I wasn't surprised that he knew, but oh, gods, just to sit and think of it, and then I found out that Colt's dad, Mr. M, was called out to the accident scene...
This is a small town. Not so small that everyone knows everyone, but pretty close. Mr. M is president of our soccer association, and has come to know the city council, the school board, the police dept, etc. in that capacity. So I guess I shouldn't be surprised he was called to the scene, but still...
There is a part of me that can't wrap my mind around it. I just saw him a couple of days ago at WalMart. Last spring, he'd barely been that much taller than me, still scrawny, still... coltish, with too long arms and legs. He shot up over the summer, and I looked up at him, at the height he'd gained, and how he had filled out, his hair shaggy and in his eyes, a blend of his mother and his father, and I'd teased him, saying, "Good grief, Colt, you got TALL!! You have to stop growing on me like that! Give me a little time to get used to it before you start shooting up again!"
He had laughed and said, "I'll try, but you know, Mrs. J, I really can't help it."
I laughed, too, sad that I couldn't ruffle his hair, because he's too tall for it, and then he laughed again and bent down so I could. It was very soft under my hand, and I said, "You stay out of trouble. I expect to see you Saturday, doing your ref thing."
I didn't know it would be the last time.
Sometimes... life sucks.
He played for the high school team, and was one of those who had to quit playing in our local rec league, because he wanted to play in college, and in order for college scouts to see him, he needed to play in a Select league, which we don't have enough kids for here. So, he was playing in San Marcos. But, he refereed for the younger kids here, and had a real rapport with them. It wasn't that he talked a lot, but he'd play with them, and interact with them, and they all followed him around like little ducks. More than a few of the girls (and some of the boys) at my daughter's level had crushes on him, which always made the games he refereed for them interesting. They'd either play really well ... or fall all over themselves.
When the Husbandly One was on his way home from work yesterday, he had to detour when he was almost to our town, because the highway was blocked off. The last time that happened was two years ago, when a propane truck was overturned, and the tank had come loose and they were worried about a potential spill, so he figured it was something similar.
No. It was Colt.
Mr. Fireman came and told me while I was sitting out on candy duty. I wasn't surprised that he knew, but oh, gods, just to sit and think of it, and then I found out that Colt's dad, Mr. M, was called out to the accident scene...
This is a small town. Not so small that everyone knows everyone, but pretty close. Mr. M is president of our soccer association, and has come to know the city council, the school board, the police dept, etc. in that capacity. So I guess I shouldn't be surprised he was called to the scene, but still...
There is a part of me that can't wrap my mind around it. I just saw him a couple of days ago at WalMart. Last spring, he'd barely been that much taller than me, still scrawny, still... coltish, with too long arms and legs. He shot up over the summer, and I looked up at him, at the height he'd gained, and how he had filled out, his hair shaggy and in his eyes, a blend of his mother and his father, and I'd teased him, saying, "Good grief, Colt, you got TALL!! You have to stop growing on me like that! Give me a little time to get used to it before you start shooting up again!"
He had laughed and said, "I'll try, but you know, Mrs. J, I really can't help it."
I laughed, too, sad that I couldn't ruffle his hair, because he's too tall for it, and then he laughed again and bent down so I could. It was very soft under my hand, and I said, "You stay out of trouble. I expect to see you Saturday, doing your ref thing."
I didn't know it would be the last time.
Sometimes... life sucks.
