Red Team

A little blonde boy sprints down the soccer field,

bee-lining it straight to the ball rolling in front of him.

He catches up to it and gives it a solid kick.

It's a goal.

The Red team celebrates.

The Blue team pouts.

I watch from the sidelines, 

and seeing my younger self smile like this

brings me a little joy,

despite the sea of razor blades

and bad dreams 

I am currently swimming through. 

My younger self steals the ball,

and passes it up the field.

He sprints down the other side of the field,

before turning his ankle,

falling on his face

right in front of me.

He hit his head pretty hard,

so I squat down to check on him.

“Hey, Kid, you alright?” I ask him.

Tears fill his eyes

as he stares up at me,

before shaking his head.

No, he wasn't alright,

and honestly,

I wasn't alright either.

She left us, kid . . . She really left us . . . 

I stick out my hand for him.

He grabs it and I help him up to his feet.

“Thanks, Mister,” he says to me, wiping the tears out of his eyes. 

I nod. 

He runs back out there and keeps playing.

The Red Team wins,

and for the briefest of moments

it does feel 

like everything 

will be okay 

some day. 

CH 2/9/26