A twenty Minute Write

My next assignment for the 'Let the Cray Child Write" was to describe something in detail and write about it for 20 minutes. So, here goes...

My event was the weekend tennis tournament..

(I did not edit. Just followed the assignment instructions.)


Six AM arrived and was welcomed like an unwanted houseguest. The alarm did however interrupt a very unpleasant dream I was having about screwing up the days events. Not being prepared and angry parents yelling at me were underlying themes in the night's reoccuring nightmares. I arose and dressed quickly. Being late was an option. I telephoned the driver to make sure he was in fact on his way over here. I was hit with a moment of panic when after three attempts, I was unable to get an answer. I left a message in my sleepy voice. Adam would be here on time, I told myself. He was very responsible for an eighteen year old.

In the meantime, I scarfed down a bowl of cereal, am mixture of Total raisin brand and Kroger' version of grape nuts--nutty nuggets or something. I never can remember my eyes not able to function during breakfast time every morning. I mix the nutty nuggets with every cereal I eat. Trying to learn to like the flavor.

My triple strength cup of black coffee burned the rood of my mouth as I swallowed hard. My eyes kept darting out the living room window and then back to the clock on my cell phone. Several cars passed on the road before Adam's red turned down my gravel driveway.

I took a quick inventory of the contents in my purse--making sure that I had all three sets of keys. The set to my office, the set to the building, and the set to the fence leading onto the tennis courts. Plus, I triple checked my other supplies, sunscreen, hat, name tag, etc. When I was completely satisfied, I walked out the front door, having to slam it shut. Not on purpose, but because I was having trouble shutting it. I hope I didn't wake everyone up. But, oh well.

I climbed in Adam's car. To be more accurate, I dripped into the front seat. His car sits very low to the ground. How does he do this every day? Adam and I chit-chatted about the upcoming day’s events. He had to be at another site and we would not see each other until the next morning---same bat time. We were both in for very long days and commented that at least he weather would cooperate and not get hot. It was a bit to cold for my taste, but I tried not to complain as I've been outside, all day, for fifteen hours in the heat of August, doing tennis tournaments. It's not pleasant. Anyway, poor Adam had to work his other job from seven that evening until midnight. I did not like my schedule, but I wasn't envying his either.

Arriving at Tattnall, the parking lot wasn't as full as I had anticipated. I've seen it chock full, with players and coaches hitting the balls back and forth, every court alive with activity. Once, I arrived at 6:45 AM to see a ball machine hooked up to court eight and a coaching lesson in full swing. Not this morning.

NO sooner was I fumbling to p[put the keys in the front down when out of the corner of my eye, a young tennis players scampers out of his parent's SUV and he jogs his in my direction. Can I have some of that energy? His father on the other hand, must have had the same thought as his fingers tightly gripped a large cup of coffee with a McDonald's logo printed on the side. "Where’s mine?" I called out smiling. Trying to get in public service mode. 'Thought I put my order in last night."

'Sorry, didn't get it. You know, the night time help these days..."

My twenty minutes are up.