There’s one essential element to a good life. It might surprise you that it isn’t provolone.
Today for the A to Z Challenge, Z is for Zest. (By the way, provolone is definitely top 3). By Zest, I mean passion, love, energy and intensity. It’s also the relish, the gusto, the devotion you become when you’re embroiled in something that comes straight from your heart.
Zest fuels our blogs, ignites our teams.
It powers our pursuits.
It drives a girl to take off down the sideline, the ball at her feet, the wind at her back and a smile on her face. It elevates a young girl to sing boldly at an audition. It emboldens one to say yes to a ski trip on the spur of the moment with kids she doesn’t even know.
Zest prompts a guy who struggles to post three times a week to write everyday in the A to Z Challenge.
Zest transfers from specialist to a child who learns to walk – or stand on his own.
Zest’s hatched preposterously. When you’re little, you don’t even know what preposterously means. Although the wrong teacher or coach or clergy can dent it, it can regenerate.
I still daydream about playing quarterback in the NFL or singing 70s songs in front of a crowd. Mostly, I dream of coaching soccer in a big, full stadium someday. Or watching my girls play a match in one.
Sometimes, it’s just as simple as me and Jennifer Lawrence sharing a pizza. As friends.
Zest’s black and white. It’s tough to have just a dash of it, but if you do, it bloats up like microwaved marshmallows. I know when it’s within me. My fingers skip on the keyboard. Ideas flow during a soccer training session.
Even my words ooze with Zest if it’s one of those days. Even the little kids listen.
If Zest fails me, it’s like handsful of saltines and nothing to drink.
It’s a kid’s master plan to get a hamster. Or puppy. It’s a boy running for class president and a high school junior’s stack of brochures from THE schools she loves. It lends flavor to the fluffiest pancakes and shine to and old Pontiac.
It’s in Friday night soccer matches and helping a brother out when he needs it. It’ll be there when the A to Z Challenge ends, when I’ll feel more like a blogger and less like that guy who talks all the time and doesn’t listen.
It’ll be there for stormtrooper pics and sandwiches.
With extra provolone.