It's Time to Play

"Can Brent come out and play?" In younger years, I heard that phrase on a near daily basis. I can still see my little self running to my mom to ask permission to go outside and play. It brought almost as much fun to utter those same words replacing the name of a dear friend with my own. I didn't call beforehand and obviously I didn't text; I would simply stroll over to my friend's house and ring the bell. While I waited for the door to answer I would try to contain myself and not get caught up in the anticipation of the day to come because the answer might be, "No."

I nervously stood and waited, hoping that that day would be a day of play. The smile that would beam from my face revealed the joy inside. Then we would play. We could have a catch, climb trees, ride bikes and roller skate. Even awful metal roller skates couldn't keep us from a great time. Going out to play could mean flying kites and watching the clouds go by. Going out to play meant one thing.

Fun.

As kids we engaged in many activities. We joined baseball and football teams; soccer wasn't a thing where I was growing up. Although enjoyable those sports required practice and often felt like work. Most of us had a good time while there, but much of the time we just waited until it was time to play. When practices or games ended we discovered the difference between organized activities and going out to play. At the end someone went home a winner and someone went home a loser.

That never happened with your friends when you went out to play. It didn't matter if you played as two friends or in a big group. Once we picked a game, we did everything we could to make the game fair. In fact, if my team or I was ever dominating in a game, we'd either change the rules or switch up the teams.

We used to play games like hot box, pop-up and fumblitis. In fumblitis, whenever you had the ball you just ran for your life as everyone else tried to tackle you.  Once tackled you must fumble the ball. Then everyone would scramble to grab it and then run away. Everyone played and everyone had fun. On occasion some kid would run extra fast and the others couldn't tackle him. (Sometimes that kid was me.) But when everyone else was too tired, I'd just run into the pack, get tackled, and join back in on the fun.

Now that I am older I still like to play. I play tennis, I'll golf and shoot baskets. At home we'll play board and card games. But the games we play require winners and losers. I sometimes long for the doorbell to ring and hear the words, "Can Brent come out and play?"

Maybe it's time for me to do the asking.