A penny for your thoughts - Part 1

30 and The Giant

My largest suitcase lies wide open in the middle of the living room and I wonder why have I packed so many things for just 9 days? I remember tournaments where I’d go with just a cabin bag for two weeks or even a month. It must be the 2 months break from playing- I no longer know what I’ll feel like wearing and it seems logical to have a different outfit for each blues, whites or blacks my mood might throw at me. With half of the wardrobe safely packed I now start wondering whether I am ready for the tournament. It feels like there are still things I wish I had done ...

My 30 years are unhappy about me handling this situation.

25 says I’m crazy to play in the open section when I could have gone for the much more accessible women’s one. 28 agrees with 25 and adds that the potential 1st prize could nicely pay another 1,5 square meters of a potential flat. 20 says the women’s section would be piece of cake and I’m a fool for not playing there while having as much fun as I wanted. 15 disagrees and yells at all the others that „30 is the coolest EVER and no one should dare criticising her as she knows best what to do!”. 18 joins her, adding that there’s nothing better in this life than „beating” men. 13 feels uncomfortable- money, fun, square meters, men- are these those things mom meant when saying „You’ll understand when growing up” ? 8 cries in a corner- she doesn’t want to travel anywhere without her lucky pink pants and there’s no pink whatsoever in „the giant” ... No one seems to know how exactly to handle a crying kid and 20 decides on „I also don’t like that there are no miniskirts”! 18 wonders where the high heels are. 25 looks for the hair curling iron. 28 and 16 are searching for the running shoes.

I pat 8’s back, trying to calm her down and remember to check if I packed the back pain cream. I have had enough of this packing party and want to leave. Throwing another grey hoodie just in case it will be cold, I close „the giant” and drag it to the front door. Just about to open it, I realise something isn’t right. Turning back, I seek for my reflection in the hallway’s mirror. Who are those women, and those children? Why don’t I see myself? Looking more carefully, I realise I see 25 with the hair curling iron, 20 in a miniskirt, 8 in her lucky pink pants, 18 rocking some high heels, 16 and 28 fighting for a pair of running shoes... They are my reflection. One day, when I’ll see just one woman when looking in the mirror, I’ll know that my mission is completed. For now, it's time to go to Nationals!

(To be continued)