Grant I repeatedly surprise myself about my connection to Grant. Tania Grant. Months go by without a word of conversation, but when it occurs, its lovely warm, like we’ve been childhood friends. It’s weird, I really can’t explain it. Am I secretly attracted to her like a girlfriend-nope. Is she a mother figure for me-nope. Is she a colleague exploring the esoteric of anything-no. The least I can do, is that there was a moment we shared that was so real and deep, seared into my heart memory that creates a foxhole trust no matter how different or distant we are or become. I’m not going to reveal the moment, but she knows it. I cried quite unexpectedly and was embarrassed. I’m not sure whether she did but it didn’t matter. She revealed to me an unexpected dream she had about her future that touched something deeper in my heart-maybe my soul. That was so authentic, therefore strong and vulnerable that it makes up the DNA (hate the word use) of our connection. (I’ve avoided the relationship because it just doesn’t fit at all. We have much more and much less at the same time.) I will reveal this. She is a basketball player of some renown locally and professionally. Across from the school on Waven St. in the gym that classically had all the seating in a wraparound balcony over the court-we find ourselves in a torrid three on three game playing for the million dollar bragging rights. She is taller than I, wider and about as strong. I guarded her, and a bit into the game, I was conflicted on how to physically guard this female basketball player without inappropriately touching her chest area. Boxing out, grabbing for a loose ball, keeping her from cutting to the basket became a burdensome quandary. I finally turned to her and said, “Look I don’t know how to guard you like I would a man because you are a woman. I’m going to guard you and forget you are a woman. You ok with that?” She paused for a second and shrugged and we went back to pushing, shoving and elbowing. I can’t remember who won, ask her. She might lie, though.