The NHL playoffs start tonight but I'm going through post-season withdrawal symptoms.
There is no shortage of hockey in my life since I'm covering two teams from a purely professional viewpoint. It makes no difference to me whether the St. Louis Blues or the Vancouver Canucks win their first round series.
What has altered things is being able to sleep in on Sunday mornings, not lugging hockey gear when I'm in heels, and no longer being a slave to last-minute game changes. I miss dragging me, my kid, and a giant, cumbersome bag out the door in the dark.
Most of all I miss spending time with people who don't care that my top is inside-out, that I'm not wearing makeup, or that I didn't brush my hair. Sleep deprivation fades quickly when you're greeted by smiling friends, especially when a nap is possible later on in the day.
Birds chirping as a new day dawns are a welcome sign of spring to those in northern climates. I don't begrudge the birdies but hearing them as I head out the door makes me melancholy.
Their spring song signals the end of house league hockey season.
Nothing though, can end the friendships found behind the boards.