I stood at the end of the hallway as two of my girls wandered out of their room toward me. It was a delight to witness their wide-mouthed excitement as they took in my blue belt.
“You got it!” one said.
I stayed in my gi, waiting for Hubby to get home so I could likewise greet him.
When I did, he said, “I knew it. When you grabbed your belt on the way out, I almost said, ‘Do you think you’ll need that after tonight?’ But I didn’t want you to get inside your own head. Then when I got home and saw your belt missing from its usual place, I knew. You put it away because you no longer need it.” He smiled and nodded. “Somehow, I just knew you were getting the new one tonight.”
I was seriously impressed by his premonition. Then I relayed the events of the night, all of my failures and reprimands and terrible mistakes.
And it happened again.
I am not normally a crier, yet I was an exhausted, emotional wreck, shocked by the irony of the worst night ending in my greatest triumph. I was blubbering like a whale* (I just made that up) and shoving strips of napkin up my nose because we’re out of tissues. (You’re very welcome for the visual.)
“This happened, then this, and this,” all while Oldest Daughter and Hubby watched, mutely marveling at this rare display from a black and now blue–appropriately like a bruise–belt martial artist who can kill a man using just one of her legs.**
After getting all of this out, I began to remember good moments in the night’s class also.
Writing and Martial Arts 