 |
| I was ready to positively make a nuisance of myself tonight. But didn't. |
who is ready to request the heads
of coaches on a platter for misdeeds
that hurt and wound and crush
the spirit of a tender child.
I never felt that way, when mine
were playing, never second-guessed
or questioned. Are these coaches worse
or have I lost my patience, morphed
into a Mama Bear whose Nana-
nails have sharpened to fine points with time?
Or was I more upset at other things
that bled into the game and colored
judgment? Ugly words sat on my
tongue; I planned to say them later,
when the field had cleared and I could
get them to one side. (Even angry I
know better than to interrupt a game,
intrude upon their focus). But I just
left instead, before the game was over,
cried and said the ugliness to no one
in the car, and maybe I will bring it
up another day, and maybe not, but
at least I didn't yell tonight.
Not much.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015
No comments:
Post a Comment