World cup

I still call it football, youth memories are sometimes hard to forget.
I was an avid fan of the Gantoise, the football club par excellence (I thought so) in my gorgeous Gent, Belgium.

Oh that was 6 decades ago , when I could still jump up and down when we made a goal.
When we loved to hate the Brits (they were so good at it ) but most of all they would come across the channel on international games and trash the trains, bars and restaurants. They were nicknamed "The hooligans".
Some of us (like frightened girls) did not want to be near them so we did not try and go to international matches.
I for sure did not go looking for trouble because I knew that then at home more BIG trouble would await me.

So why do I all of a sudden become involved with the world cup?
I am not sure but I had the best time yesterday to watch England~USA.
The fact that we were "given" a goal by clumsy Greene should not diminish the great work on the field by the Americans. I was surprised. The goalie was like a Superman, jumped high and low, continued to work with a broken rib and a pain shot at half time.
America is becoming aware BIG TIME of a sport we call soccer.

I was so surprised to find the joy in watching. Did I watch other Cup's before this? No! Why not?I asked myself and then the answer came.
Bob was not interested.
Did I become so much a part of him?
We just blended like a very tightly woven rope.
BUT????did I give up totally to fit in the blend???
Now that I am riding solo in this new road of mine do I find myself again?
Is this good or bad?
I have not a clue anymore as I am not sure who I am at this point.
Meanwhile I am watching the clock I do want to see Germany's game at 2.30.
Don't guess who I am rooting for.

Before "BoB" I thought I was an artist, albeit a poor one, I thought I was very creative. Over the shower I painted a mama elephant showering her baby.
The girls were small did not know good from bad, they adored it.
Running a Bazar with the Episcopalians (yes, I was that too for awhile) I did all the art work.
The old ladies adored me for it.
then came Bob who giggled himself silly over the elephants and my artistic
vein dried up. I truly in my soul thought I was no longer artistic, perhaps in the kitchen as I can cook and he made soup you ate with a knife. I stood my ground there.

I remind you that I had a wonderful marriage. No question. He treated me like a queen until he lost his mind.
Do I have regrets of the loss of "self", no cause I did not know it and now I am finding , very slowly, the young girl and woman from the past.
Not that bad, leave me be I need to see soccer...oh pardonnez moi , football