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she was fast
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she was fast  When she was thirteen she was fast. It was the one thing she could do that made her feel special, different, alive. She didn’t have long straight hair. Her hair would curl if she said she needed a glass of water so she tortured herself with giant rollers that cut into her head as she slept. She had no breasts, no monthly visitor, no sign of womanly curves. Her legs were long, her feet big and flat. But she was fast. When the trials came for the junior Olympics she entered the relay, 60 yard dash and 100 yard dash. She made it to the finals.. Two days before she started to cough. The day before she was throwing up and running a fever. Her mama told her no race and tucked the blankets around her like a prison. On the day of the Olympics, her Da came into her room like a thief. He, fed her juice, aspirin, pulled her clothes on, tied her sneakers, hustled her down the back stairs. They arrived only minutes before the games began. Her head was pounding but she saw the girl she knew from practices, smiling at her, knowing she was weak. She shook her legs and stumbled, not now, not now. As he pinned the number to her chest, the caller looked at her closely. “You okay?” “Okay?” “Yeah, you okay?” She felt her knees start to give under her but straightened up, looking at him, seeing double, smiling at both of him, taking her place on the line. The day was hot, sunny, the world on fire, the grass of the field beside them a color unlike any she’d ever seen before. Her eyes closed, opened, finding the lane markers, giggling as they wiggled up and away. “I’m good” He nodded, leaving her there on the line. “Mark” “Set” The POP was so loud she felt her body leave before her mind did, her legs doing as they always did, digging, pushing until the sky was all around her, until the air lifted her, until the earth was left behind, until she flew. Her Da stopped her about 25 yards beyond the finish line, caught her in his arms. He lifted her, carrying her back to the bleachers, sitting with her in his arms, waiting for their next race, letting her rest. She never knew such love. Poor Da…… mama was so mad. But that day she flew. She flew because her Da knew she had to. You cannot conceive the many without the one. |
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my here I am - hello comment You cannot conceive the many without the one.
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Damn it your making my eyes blurry again.  Vive La Difference
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Such a sweet, sweet story. 
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Great story, thanks for sharing.
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I love this one! And to think of the impact that this made on her life.
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Ah, wicked, you've done it again. I do love the stories you tell.  Become a member now and get a free tote bag.
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Beautiful story! Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety. Other women cloy The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies. For vilest things Become themselves in her, that the holy priests Bless her when she is riggish. ~~ from Antony & Cleopatra
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