Letters from an Insomniac #2—15/love

Our family sport growing up was tennis. To say it was a huge part of our lives is an understatement. We lived at the Marin Tennis Club all summer. We were one of the founding members of the club and our family's presence (as well as many others) was ubiquitous. We all grew up together at that club. We played tennis, spent hours in the pool and took lessons. We played backgammon, watched tv upstairs (although surprisingly little—it was too hot up there) and ate lunch and snack after snack. My older brother was a competitive tennis player and we spent almost every summer in the car driving him around the Bay Area playing in tournaments (until I finally put my foot down and my Mom let me stay home alone). I played for a few years, but eventually abandoned the sport, probably because I was rebelling against the family sport.

So recently I have started playing again and I am having so much fun. It has been so long since I have actually played a sport where I have to get a ball over a net. It is nice to feel like a teenager again. I have no idea why it makes me feel that way—I guess since I stopped playing at about 13. I am hoping this is the beginning of a long relationship.