Apr 20, 2015 3 min read

It had started off such a lovely day: It was warm enough to wear Capri pants and sandals to church, and both Sunday school and the church service had great messages to share. My oldest daughter had a soccer game that afternoon, and there were enough leftovers from dinner Saturday evening that I wasn’t going to have to cook lunch before we went. Lovely.

We arrived to the game 45 minutes before it was due to start so the girls could gear up and warm up. I used that time to walk the track, and was rewarded by the little vibration on my wrist tracker telling me I had completed the day’s goal of 10,000 steps before 3:30 p.m. Super lovely.

The game started nearly on time and our team quickly took control of the game. They looked like a well-oiled machine after only a few minutes, and they passed back and forth with relative ease. The opposing team, who were also quite skilled, was just not able to get past our defense to score. At the half, we were up 2-0.

The wind had been whipping since we arrived on top of the hill, and just before the half, the rains came. Sometimes a light sprinkle, others closer to a downpour, it would have been much more tolerable without that wind driving each droplet into all exposed skin like a million tiny needles.

My son, who had celebrated the springlike temperatures by wearing flip-flops to the game, began to complain about his feet being cold. So, at the half, we walked back to the car for the umbrella and ratty blanket we keep there for such occasions.

Moments into the second half, as we sat underneath the golf-sized umbrella and wrapped in a purple-trimmed Scooby Doo blanket, the wind picked up yet again. It caught the umbrella of the coach and all the umbrellas in the stands, ours included. Several of them turned inside out, ours included. Most of the parents were able to simply turn theirs back the right way. I was not so lucky.

The little strings that keep the fins of an umbrella fastened to the fabric had all been severed by the force of the wind. All of the fins sprung back into place, but the fabric coating had folded itself up – inside out – into a little triangle covering only one-fourth of the frame.

I sat there, getting drenched, laughing at how we must look. We sat there until we caught the eye of my daughter, who looked mortified before looking away. Then I let my son throw the umbrella away. The quarter of me that was semi-dry was completely outmatched by the three-quarters of me that was soaked anyway.

I was seriously contemplating going to the car to begin to dry off and warm up when my daughter and another forward began to make a beautiful run down the field. The forward, whose speed and dedication to making the play outmatches any other high school player I’ve ever seen, came flying down the sideline past their defender and drew the goalie out to the side of the box. Then, just at the last second, she passed the ball to my daughter, who scored. The game ended with our first win of the season.

We were soggy, wind-blown and cold. But I assure you, it was quite lovely.

Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.