Dear Bowling,

You have had my heart since 1985.

That is a long time to love something.

We have grown up together. We have celebrated. We have drifted. There were seasons when I tried to leave you. I questioned whether you loved me as fiercely as I loved you.

You tested me.

But I always came back.

Because eventually I understood something I was too young to see in the beginning. The hard lessons were not rejection. They were refinement.

You were shaping me.

You took me around the world. The world.
You carried me to places so far south I felt the breath of Antarctica. You brought me into rooms with princes. You let me wear my country on my chest. You showed me how big life could be.

But you also broke my heart.

I remember walking through the airport after you shattered me on live television. The cameras were off. The lights were gone. But the embarrassment was still burning in my chest.

I replayed every shot. Every decision. Every mistake.

And there I was. Rolling my suitcase through a crowded terminal, trying to hold myself together while the world kept moving. No one in that airport knew what had just happened. No one knew I felt exposed. Small. Questioning everything.

And you expected me to board the next flight.

To show up at a world event the very next day.

To compete.

To represent.

To smile.

You did not give me time to hide.

At the time, I thought you were cruel.

Now I understand you were teaching me something only heartbreak can teach.

Resilience is not built in comfort.
Confidence is not built when everything goes right.
Composure is not built in private victories.

It is built in airports after failure.
It is built when you compete again before the wound closes.
It is built when you decide that one moment does not define who you are.

You taught me how to lose in public.

You taught me how to adjust instead of collapse.
How to breathe instead of blame.
How to step onto the approach with courage even when doubt is loud.

And somewhere in all of it, you gave me more than competition.

You gave me perspective.
You gave me lifelong friendships.
You gave me another love of my life, a partner to walk beside me long after the final frame.

What a ride we have been on.

When I think of you, my heart feels different. Fuller. Wiser. Stronger.

I do not love you because you always rewarded me.

I love you because you required something from me.

Patience when I wanted instant results.
Discipline when motivation faded.
Faith when the scoreboard disagreed.

You taught me that the process is the point.

That perfection is a myth.
That imperfection is where growth hides.
That purpose is not found in a single score, but in the person I am becoming because I keep showing up.

You never gave up on me.

Even when I doubted myself.
Even when I wanted to quit.
Even when I felt embarrassed, exposed, and exhausted.

You were still there. Waiting at the foul line.

And I came back.

Every time.

Forever yours,
A Bowler