Hope is Kindled by a Picnic Date

The sun shined. It was 11 in the morning on a Monday. I sat on a splintered bench inside a disheveled tennis court, talking with a friend, when something caught my eye: a young bi-racial couple approached a nearby basketball court. He carried a basketball and a cooler. She carried a cushioned blanket. She unfolded it off to the side of the court and began to unpack the cooler.

It hit me! She was setting out a damn picnic spread!

The man started shooting hoops. He had decent form and hit a few threes and corkscrew layups. My friend and I watched them, marveled, remarked and smiled. Nothing like a damned picnic date to make you smile. I want to go on a picnic date!

A few minutes later the man came over to the blanket and they partook in food and drink. Several minutes after that, they both got up and shot hoops. She wasn’t bad either. They started playing HORSE or PIG. They were smiling and joking the whole time and I never once saw a phone in use.