SecONdS

“Hi, honey!”

“Hi, Mom!”

“How was it?”

I loved being outside. I loved the sun and its warmth. I loved the feel of cool air on my skin as small drafts surrounded me in their passing, bringing a feeling of excitement that resounded with every hair on my body. I loved the taste of fresh air, its smells. I loved the feeling of being completely surrounded by noise, by undiscernible noise, by rebellious noise, by noise that lived. I loved the feeling of standing in one place and being able to feel everything there was to feel there: how big I was compared to the pebble next to my shoe, how small I was compared to the man that had just passed by, how anxious I was to take my first step from this spot, how safe I felt on it, how happy I was to feel all of these things, how sad I was to not be able to feel more. I loved every second of it!

“Fine.” I replied.

“Did you have fun?” Mom asked.

I made my way between two sets of bleachers towards the field. The air was cooler here and as I walked it felt as if I was moving through a tunnel, the world was hushed up, a living prelude filled with respect, and demanding of it. Even the dirt was silent here. The moment I stepped past the last rail life exploded at me, brimming with energy it reduced me to a basic awe and a dire need to feel safe again. I stopped and I looked, allowing my eyes to soak in the movements, the colors, the light. I loved every second of it!

“Yeah, I guess.” I replied.

“Did you feel scared?” Mom asked.

So many people. So much noise. So much energy. There were around ten children on the field, half wore red T-shirts, the other half green. They were running around frantically, passing a ball, chasing it, hitting it, tripping and pushing. Like water in the bath when I slosh around, the tide ebbed to the left and then to the right in a cacophony of laughter and yells as parents cheered from the side, mimicking, shouting, urging them on. I feared every second of it!

“No!” I replied.

“Did you make any friends?” Mom asked.

She caught me by surprise as I felt her hand on my arm and a small whimper fled as my mind adjusted to the image of what was Coach Jane. We came eye to eye, as she was sitting on her haunches, and it felt as if all the warmth in the world came from her smile. I started counting the freckles on her cheeks and nose and ended up staring at her hazelnut eyes. They had flecks of green in them and they smiled! She led me by the hand and I could feel her warm fingers pressing unto mine. I get sweaty palms from time to time, this time I forgot how to do it. We went to a group next to the bleachers on the right and she handed me a green T-shirt saying it was mine. I love green! There were other boys and girls around Coach Jane and I heard their names. They had nice names like: Billy and Jack, Jill and Penelope, and Jane. I loved every second of them.

“No, not really.” I replied.

“No?! Why not?” Mom asked.

She took us behind the closest goal post and explained all sorts of things. What to do, how to do it, what this or that was, who him or her were supposed to be. Dad had bought me new cleats, I loved them so, so much. I liked the way they gripped the earth as I walked and if I ran they would pull at the grass sending a small spray of green and brown into the air. I love the smell of grass and when you cut or crush it, it smells even better. Its intoxicating and sometimes I like to rub it between my palms so I can keep the smell with me. Dad taught me how to do it. I love every second of it.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Is dad home?”

“I think so.”

On the way to the field Dad told me how excited he was that I had picked football, how when he was my age he had learnt about Pele and his love for the sport. How he taught himself to play barefoot, with balls made of cloth and then won the World Cup. He told me that I could be like Pele if I wanted to. How lucky I was to get the chance to play and how much fun I would have today. How the cleats were ordered especially for me and how special they will make me. I loved him for every second of it.

“Did you score a goal?” Mom asked.

I remember how exhilarating it felt to chase after the ball. I could see Pele running from street to street struggling to keep the ball from hitting the ground. The smell of soil as I tripped and fell head first, how the ground scraped the skin on my elbow, how my knee reddened from it. I remember how the grass smelled up close, uncut, unbroken. I prayed and prayed for the ball to be mine so I could kick it just hard enough to keep it in front of me. But the moment it came, how sweaty my palms would get after that first time when I kicked it too hard and lost it. How I wanted to get rid of it only to pray for its return once more. I felt evert second with it.

“No,” I answered.

I recognized the trees in from of our house and Dad’s car in front of the garage. I got out as soon as the car was parked and ran towards the front door.

“Hi, Dad!” I said as I hugged him in the kitchen. He was looking at the screen of his laptop with bright intent.

“Hi, champ! Go and clean yourself up,” he said as he brushed my hair carelessly but with care.

I went for the bag that Mom had brought in from the car, I wanted to get my cleats so I could clean them up. I listened.

“What did he say? Did he like it?” Dad asked.

“I don’t think so.” Mom replied.

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with him! Basketball, karting, fencing, last month you bought him those Harry Potter books and those paints with the numbered canvas and everything. He doesn’t like anything.” Dad said. “Why can’t he pick one?!”

Because you missed every second of it.