Hometown BBQ Blues

I’m thirty-nine years old,

thought I still had some game,

Walked onto that basketball court like I was still the same.

One little crossover,

one jump, one bad sound,

Now I’m sittin’ on the couch with my leg

propped up and down.

I used to chase the kids,

now they’re chasin’ me,

“Daddy, can you get up?”

— well, not exactly easily.

I tore my ACL tryin’ to turn back the clock,

Now my biggest athletic move is limpin’ to the block.

So thank you, baby,

for doin’ everything,

For holdin’ down this house and all the crazy that it brings.

You’re Mom, you’re wife,

you’re chauffeur, chef and more,

While I’m over here negotiatin’ with my knee to get off the

floor.

I know I’m supposed to be the one who helps carry the

load,

But right now I’m just carryin’ this ice pack down the road.

I might be down for a little while,

but one thing’s true—

I’d be completely lost without you.

You get the kids where they need to go,

you keep this whole thing runnin’,

While I’m countin’ every step like my knee’s got me outnumbered.

You bring me water,

meds and food, you check on me at night,

And somehow still find time to make sure everybody’s alright.

I know I said,

“I got it,”

right before I hit the ground,

Now I need three business days just to turn myself around.

I’m learnin’ patience, humility,

and how to use these crutches,

And apparently at thirty-nine,

old-man basketball

hurts a bunch.

Someday soon I’ll be back on my feet,

Back in the kitchen,

back in the street.

Back to chasing our babies,

back doing my part,

Back to being your husband with two working legs and a heart.

But before I get there,

I want you to know,

I see every little thing that you do when you think I

don’t.

And if this busted knee has taught me anything,

It’s how lucky I am to have you beside me.

So thank you, baby,

for loving me this way,

For picking up the pieces on my hardest days.

You’ve carried this family

while I’ve been learning how to heal,

And I hope you know how much your love means to me

for real.

One day I’ll look back and laugh about this year,

The forty-year-old knees and the ice packs and the fear.

And I’ll probably swear I’m never playing basketball again…

Until somebody says,

“Just one more game.”

But until then…

I’ve got the best wife in the world.

And she’s got one very useless husband

with a brand-new ACL.