Saturday Morning Agenda: Soccer Game & Gymnastics Meet

This actually is our agenda for this weekend, too, but I wrote this on another Saturday morning a few weeks ago:

Saturday Morning Agenda: Soccer Game & Gymnastics Meet

Pulling back glowing sunshine hair into a ponytail

With a battered black elastic yanked from her wrist.

From high it bobs to best effect

Bouncing, insouciant, devil-may-care.


Rummaging for supplies and spray,

Smoothing, twisting, tucking.

Restrained with pins and more pins,

Bright glimmers among muted strands.


Knocking and clattering, coltish legs

Smack the ball, bang kitchen cabinets.

She chatters and shouts, all bold bravado:

This girl takes up space.


Sleepy and fretful, murmuring self-admonishments,

She curls catlike on the sofa

And snuggles under the blanket,

Half-dreaming of pointed toes, and glory, and shame.


No injuries (knock wood!), but she’ll show you her scar

From when that opponent accidentally bit her arm.

The girl took her knocked teeth to the sidelines to cry

While she, bleeding, laughed and played on.


Osgood-Schlatter’s a bump on the knee,

From relentless workouts, tumbling and practice

On joints straining to grow. But washboard abs,

Rippling biceps make eyes bright with pride. She glows.


She runs on the field grinning broadly,

Then shoulders girls with a growl.

She’d rather play up, but her protection’s fierce–

She takes the corner kicks and shots from midfield,

And she’ll boss her teammates if they need it!


Warming up, she looks small; face shadowed and intense,

Her nerves belie the strength and poise she doesn’t see.

Routine’s end brings exultant salute or bright flush and bit lips.

She trots to sit at the edge of her teammates

And claps: wistful, smiling, pining for their skills.


So graceful: joyful and free or studied and precise.

So strong: muscling in to connect or pressing up and holding steady.

So bold: trash talking or overcoming fears.

So much to inspire on a Saturday morning

And almost too much love and beauty to bear.


  1. @Big Sister, thank you! I said to Cute W last night that the crickets chirping after this made me feel a little bit like I passed gas in a crowded room but no one’s willing to acknowledge it. Not poetic, but an accurate reflection of how putting this out there and having it out there feels. So I appreciate your comment, truly.

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