Kickball

I remember the shouts of kids on the corner. The kickball games.

The thwack of the ball as you kick it with the side of your foot. The sound of canvas High Tops hitting the rubber ball. You kicked it very very hard. You hold your breath. It is going far but you can’t watch the ball. Because you have to run. Run as hard and fast as you can. Footsteps faster than your breath as you make your way to first base. Safe at first. Stay. Stay. How come you didn’t get farther? It was such a good kick. It was out into the field. Way out.

No time for thinking. Your brother’s up to kick. Time to cheer him on.

Your cheer becomes a part of the shouts. The shouts of the kids on the corner of South Crescent and Belleplain. Park Ridge, Illinois.

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