Lauren Denton
In the 10-plus years I’ve been writing this column, I’ve offered you January missives on everything from cleaning out closets to my first book deal to how much I dislike New Year’s resolutions. I’ve talked about rest and renewal, redeeming our time and the hope that a brand-new, clean-slate year can bring. Here we are in yet another January, and while I’m grateful to be looking at a new year, my thoughts going into it have shifted quite a bit. It’s the first calendar year my mom won’t see. The first year I’ll enter without her being a quick phone call or car ride away. So, this one hits a little different.
I’m also usually knee-deep in the writing of a new book in January, but again, this year is different. I’ve been on a sort of hiatus from writing since I turned in my last book to my editor. The hiatus conveniently coincided with my mom’s decline and death, and I was grateful to not have a deadline pressing on my shoulders during that time. In the absence of the constant urge to churn out scenes and chapters, I’ve had time — for the first time in many years — to stop and think about what I want my minutes and hours and days to look like. I’m still figuring it out. In fact, many days I spend my seven school hours trying to decide what in the world to do with myself. But in a surprise twist, for me at least, I think I’ve figured out one way to spend at least few of those hours.
A couple months ago, I stepped onto a tennis court for the first time in more than 20 years. Probably more like 25. After an hour and a half on a hard court on the last 80-plus degree day in November, I could barely wipe the smile off my face. You see, I played tennis growing up, starting around the age of five. I come by it honestly: my dad played tennis in college, my mom started playing when I was young, and my younger brother played his entire childhood too. I spent a whole lot of time at our local racket club in Mobile, hitting balls on the backboard, watching adults play tennis and taking lessons with friends. Tennis was as big a part of my childhood as climbing trees with my best friend and Saturday morning cartoons.
After about 10 years of lessons, clinics and summer tournaments, I decided I was done. I put down my racket and didn’t look back. At least not for a very long time. I moved on to other things in my life — high school, college, boyfriends, marriage, kids and writing. Then, at some point when my daughters were very young, I started thinking about how my mom had joined a tennis league when I was a little girl. It’s one of my strongest memories — the sight of a bunch of ladies (old to me then, but now I know they were younger than I am now) running around the tennis court, skirts swinging, visors in place, laughter and cheers floating across the clay surface. And as I cruised through the years of middle-of-the-night feedings and diapers then preschool and the start of big school, tennis began poking around the back of my brain. Remember me? You liked me once.
More years went by, and anytime I’d think about tennis, I’d tell myself, “One day, I’ll do it. When I have time.” But by then, writing took up almost all of those precious school-day hours. Until this year, when my schedule was suddenly wide open. In the car on the way to a book event, a friend asked me, “If no one was watching, no one cared, and there were no expectations, what would you do totally for yourself, for total delight?” My very first thought was, “I’d play tennis again.” The force of the desire shocked me. I’d already spoken to the local tennis instructor, Stephanie, when I took Kate to a clinic in the fall. After finding out I used to play, Stephanie asked me why I wasn’t playing now. My response was something along the lines of, “I’ve been writing a lot and just haven’t had time.” She said, “You should give it a try. I bet tennis will make you a better writer.”
Only time will tell if she’s right about that, but already I can tell playing tennis may just make me a happier person. I quit tennis in my teens because I was tired of the pressure to play well, and the constant need to take lessons, improve my serve, or figure out how to hit a decent backhand volley. When I’m on the court now, sure I’d like to be able to hit that volley or have better control over the ball, but I’m actually playing just for fun. For total delight. That’s a new one for me.
Maybe that’s something all of us could hold onto as we walk into this new year. We have so many responsibilities and obligations and pressures, no matter what our stage of life, but making room for delight — and yes, even play — is surely a good thing. The thought of my mom and her friends, taking time away from their daily responsibilities to play tennis, reminds me of that. I think she’d be thrilled to know I’m back on the court.
When I’m not writing about my family and our various shenanigans, I write novels and go to the grocery store. My novels are found in stores, online, and locally at Little Professor Bookshop. You can reach me by email at Lauren@LaurenKDenton.com, visit my website LaurenKDenton.com, or find me on Instagram @LaurenKDentonBooks or Facebook ~LaurenKDentonAuthor.
