Back Again!

Except for the anticipation, the return trip to Sky Valley was, for the most part, tiring and boring. Opening the house, unloading the car, cleaning the seasonal accumulated leaves and trash was not the high point of the annual pilgrimage. All would have been drudgery had it not been for the "pop". The next morning, it came. Floating down the street in an almost ethereal fog was the "pop"! True to the code of the addicted, I, trance like, began the methodical walk toward the "pop". As I came close to the source my step lightened, my dry throat relaxed as saliva again flowed. My eyes, which seconds before were fixed and dry looking, took on a more liquid look, my heart started to pound, pulsing blood through tired veins. I was alive!! The pickle-ball court appeared just a block away. Oh, yes, there they were! Picklers on the courts. The "pop" of the ball off the paddle - music to the soul! I was home.