I want to be in the presence of bright people. I don’t mean smart. I mean shining.

Camila Osorio is a tennis player from Colombia. It’s nice that she’s pretty, but far more vividly … she shines. And Camila is a kind person. After a match, win or lose, she has a smile for her opponent. And it’s a smile that reaches her eyes.

Camila is my favourite tennis player. Tomorrow I take trains to Eastbourne, England to see the Rothesay International tournament – both women and men. I want to be in the same stadium with her when play starts on Monday.

Thirty-two women will be playing. Twenty-six of them have been decided. Twenty-four other women are competing this weekend for the final six spots. Camila is one of them.

For me to see her, Camila has to win a match today and one tomorrow. Right now she’s playing Cristina Bucsa from Spain. Cristina won the first set 6-4 and Camila won the second by the same score. The winner of the third will move on to Sunday’s match.

I write > I open the Flashscore app … over and over again.

These are tender moments. I want something. It may or may not happen. I smile at the uncertainty, at how often my wishes aren’t granted, and that sometimes they are.

News flash: Camila is ahead 3-0 in the third! Be still, my heart.

Things are opening … closing … opening. I’m inside some immense pulsing. Then a jolt – all is well even if she loses. Then a response: “No!” I’m all over the map.

4-0!

My lips are dry. It’s so close to the end I want. On Monday maybe I can talk to Camila, tell her why I watch her play.

5-0

Why am I sweating like this? Probably because I’m a human being.

5-1

No problemo. My friend is still way ahead. Go Camila!

5-2

C’mon, Bruce. You’re a mature adult. (That’s right, isn’t it?)

Camila is one point away from winning!

I’d like some oxygen, please.

She did it! 4-6, 6-4, 6-2.

I can’t write just now. Give me a few minutes to recover.

***

Alrighty then … my vision of Monday remains open in the universe