Present Over Perfect

if we make sure we’re all ready about twenty minutes before
the bus comes, and we all go outside together. I shuffle out
in my slippers and bedhead, bringing out coffee for Aaron
and me. The kids shoot around, and the neighbor kids
wander over. By the time the bus comes, the nerves have
been shaken off, and our boy runs to the corner, yelping
and laughing with the rest of the kids.
We play before school and after, and it’s contagious, it
seems. You can’t walk by without shooting, and then if you
miss you can’t help but try a few more times. We had
friends over for dinner last night, and one friend had just
finished preaching at church. He was still in his navy blazer,
but he jumped right in and took a few shots nonetheless.
My brother and dad shoot around with us when they
stop over on Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings.
One night, our boys were shooting around, and Aaron sunk
a great shot. I took a picture of him while he shot, and he
posted it on Instagram, issuing a challenge to his best friend
Steve, one of the best basketball players we know, and one
of the most competitive people we know. We laughed about
it, and then I went in to start dinner, slicing tomatoes and
onions and jalapenos, scooping avocados out of their
leathery shells for guacamole.
I heard cheering in the driveway—apparently Steve saw
the post at his house, jumped in the car, and was running up
our driveway while the kids cheered and yelled. Challenge!
Challenge! It would offend Aaron terribly if I called it an
upset, but that’s what it was: Aaron beat Steve quite