I am here, on time.
My mortgage is two-weeks late; my oldest child is suffering through a medication change and trouble at school; my youngest child begged me not to leave, and my husband and I haven’t looked each other in the eye for days. I spent much of the day holding my aging dog as she recovered from a seizure.
But none of this matters now. I am here. I compose myself and prepare for the next 90 minutes on the field with your child. And mine; she has already leapt from the car and disappeared into the growing crowd of girls.
Sometimes you wave as you drive away, and sometimes you don’t. It usually depends if we won the previous weekend and if you felt your child had been given an appropriate amount of play time.
Your daughter is funny and kind and thoughtful. And tonight your daughter had a great practice. She struggled with a new skill and shook off a solid smack to her ear from a ball. And, we laughed. She also told me something that has been bothering her, asking shyly that I not tell anyone.
I explained why she was subbed off last game. She nodded in agreement and asked how to get better. We hugged, she thanked me, and we moved on.
Coach A. Bilson
