She barrels into the indoor gym, slapping her legs, bolting forward with a look of determination. Sometimes, her nervousness is palpable. Manifested in the flip of her braids, the tug of her jersey. Tell-tale mannerisms that only a mother would know. She’s the only girl at Saturday soccer.
And she never gives up.
Even if she rarely has a go at the ball, she runs and gives her all. Flushed cheeks, dramatically squirting her waterbottle over her head during breaks – always excited to return the following week.
This sort of 7-year-old determination makes me think about my own metaphorical playing field, and the countless times that I’ve been complacent, paralyzed or held-back in some way. She has no idea that she’s made me revisit the words strewn in draft form that weren’t quite good enough. Questioning my recent risk-taking or lack thereof.
Only time will tell if this sport will stick. In the meantime, I’ll continue to cheer inwardly and from the sidelines for my girl. And as of now – it looks like she’ll continue to show up and bring her best.