sirens and whistles and cheering. sounds like football, sounds like winter. there’s a certain comfort you get from the familiar. and football is familiar.
growing up with an absolute loathing for what was expected of me to watch and enjoy. growing up and growing to love. at seven, i preferred eating red lollies and playing with equally disinterested little girls to watching my brother play. at seventeen, i didn’t care much for the game, rather i watched the players in their short little shorts and tight sleeveless tops. grabbing and groping and grunting.
i’m glad i outgrew that. the allure of “talent”, “infamy”, “glamour”. now, i don’t care much for the game or at all for the players. but the sounds…oh, they remind me of all the winter days of my life.
as the weather moves through autumn to winter, i am comforted by the familiar.