Archives for posts with tag: goals

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Legs tired from running up and down the field, where practice has just concluded, slightly shaking do their best to hold my tired frame beneath showers spray. Flip-flops protect my feet from the sorts of elements that live on the white tile floors of locker rooms. The water stings slightly mellowing the tension of overworked muscles. While the absence of ever present chatter of teammates insures that practice has drained even the strength to speak from all present. My mind ponders why this was all I wanted during High School, this chance to be a member of the University women’s lacrosse team. I can only ponder for a moment, I simply lack the energy thought requires.

Slightly recovered by the shower, as if exhaustion washed down the drain with the bits of grass that had clung to my legs. I dress in a white shirt, recalling how proud I’d been when the coaches had issued the shirt with our schools blue simple yet unmistakeable logo on the chest. In appreciation index finger traces the raised letters bellow the emblem, spelling out WLAX. Pride replaces weariness as I spot my roommate, who appears as worn out as myself from the days conditioning. The familiar two words that are known across the country as our schools motto echo off the navy and white walls, breaking the silence. My shout is answered back from dorm mate and teammates alike, as per school tradition. It feels good, hearing upperclassman respond to my voice reassuring that I truly belong.

My new best friend, teammate and dorm mate walks out of the University athletics complex slightly ahead of me. Tapping shoulder of solid muscle going past her, I challenge, “race you to the room!”

Balls of my feet pushing off familiar pavement, breeze in face, I find full stride. It feels good reaching goals, accomplishing dreams and of course as always running. Imagination turns the concrete to the gravel drive of home, crunching with each touch of foot. This burst of energy is more than simple achievements or love of life, it’s the knowledge that in the dorm an email from Brooke waits for me. Without fail there is a message every evening, telling me of all the events of my sister’s day. On this day I can’t wait to tell her my feelings, to share the realization of my success. Also, I need to thank her for all the support and always showing me what it’s like to be a champion.

-Brooke’s Sister

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Standing in cap gown on the green grass that my feet have covered during so many practices and lacrosse games, it doesn’t feel real. High School is over, I’ve been accepted at State and should be excited. Yet a melancholy his filled my body all day. My friends are triumphant, they should be, we made it. The accumulation of four years of last minute studying, homework frantically completed before class and of course so much more, is behind us. The laughs, tears, first loves, heartbreaks, close calls and all that we believe to be the biggest moments of our lives. Some of what we’ve done may impact us forever, most was just inflated by our importance of self. None of this accounts for my mood.

Caps fly hi to cheers and youthful whoops. The one that had been pinned to my hair by my mother is of course among them. I have the diploma in leather binder tucked beneath my arm, hugs and congratulations for the scholarship that was announced naming me as recipient are given. My father is taking pictures of me and my friends. My smile is huge, a mask of the true somber tones of this occasion.

One figure in a white dress covered in yellow daisies, symbolic of the purity of the girl wearing it, sits in the now vacated bleachers alone. A setting sun casts a glow around her, fitting her angelic beauty. I quickly try to imagine her in a year sitting there with friends cheering on the football team. Or in five standing on the field in a gown much like the one I am covered in. As I get closer I see she has a sketch book in her hands. I ask if I can see what she is drawing to which I simply get a gesture of no. The sketches are too preliminary to share, they are just for reference, the painting will be given to me on her only visit to see me during my freshman year.

Embracing Brooke my tears that fall down onto her back are matched by her own dampening my shoulder. This is not only a day of recognized accomplishment but a day marking childhood being left behind. She is happy for me in regards to that which I’ve completed but we know in a few short months the room we have always shared will only house one.

As my first summer home from college draws shorter, I’m reminded of graduating and again slightly feeling a familiar meloncholy. I asked Brooke today if she was excited for her freshman year of High School. Dreamy eyes looked at me as she signed, “not really, it means your going away again.”

-Brooke’s Sister