I was about five when my parents took me to my first tennis lesson. I left practice with a smile that would not come off, the way you feel after eating at your favorite restaurant for the first time. As I grew older, I played in tournaments across the country and spent most of my summer vacations on the courts. Then tennis began to drain my energy. The sport I had loved started to feel like a weight on my shoulders.
At my school, tennis was uncommon. Most classmates played soccer, basketball, or volleyball, and I wanted to try those too. I liked volleyball for a while, then quit. I tried table tennis, then track and field, and more. In 2018 I returned to tennis, but I was so far behind the other players that I lost heart and quit again. In high school I focused on track, soccer, and volleyball. Tennis faded into a childhood memory.
At the start of my freshman year of college, I began running at the campus track, which sat next to the tennis courts. Every time I looked over, I felt a knot in my throat and wanted to play. One day, after my usual run, I asked the tennis coach if I could join practice. I was nervous after so many years away. It went better than I expected. Once I stepped on the court, a spark I thought had vanished years ago came back.
The first months were hard. Sometimes I got angry, thinking I would be better if I had never left. I did not want to let the chance go. After a few months, my skills improved. A dream from childhood no longer seemed impossible: playing tennis in college.
Tryout day was full of mixed feelings. I did not expect to make the team, but I wanted to prove it was not too late to start over. A couple of months later, I learned I had made it. After years away, wondering what might have happened if I had never quit, I had reached the goal.
Playing tennis now feels as it did at the beginning: joy and calm in the middle of a busy life. Results are not always what I want, but I have my love of the game back, and I am not willing to let it go again.