There is a high-school near by. It’s usually busy there, either people playing tennis on the public court or there’s a football game next door.
This summer, Tennis was the game. At least once a week, excluding Monday and Tuesday when the courts are booked, the two of us took a ten-minute drive to hit some balls.
The hitting was usually irregular and sloppy. Willson number 1, the yellow ball strictly assigned to us, racked up plenty of air-time, usually ending up in someone’s face or totally off the court.
I can’t say how the ball ended up all the way to the field of the local high school but once Willson 1 took flight in that direction, we did too.
With the setting sun, the place changed dramatically. It was warm for mid October, it felt more like midsummer’s eve. The streets got quiet, parking lot empty.
The school had its own little courtyard, from there you could peek into the hallways and classrooms. This is the time of online learning, these classrooms haven’t seen students for months.
It got completely dark, and yet, from the distant football field we hear rumblings and yells. Can’t see a thing, probably just some kids messing around. Good time to head home.