You didn’t know you were my hero.
Mama used to drop me off at the soccer fields and there you were grinning, pumping your fist in the air to get us moving. Being able to take off, run wildly with the wind in my face, no sweat or worry was like magic spilling from a wand.
In the beginning, you reffed most of my games, and later, you slipped into the role of coach and mentor. You didn’t know, my Daddy was a drunk with a temper, after all, he never showed his face, not once, but I was glad. You didn’t know several days he made Mama sob for Daddy beat me up. I was his “rag doll” of a son, you see, my arms dangling, pretending I had a soft cushion, bean bag skin. Some nights, I would nab his “‘damn poison” take swigs for every single thing that sucked about Daddy until I passed out and entered a world of peace, color.
Yet, there were times, I did wake up to the stars shining hard, bright outside my bedroom window, a few twinkled, didn’t they?? It reminded me there was more, somewhere.
My senior year, my sorry Daddy drank himself into his own grave.
And, we were able to b-r-e-a-t-h-e.
In June, you came to my graduation in a crisp, blue blazer and sat with my lovely Mama. Her hair was fixed up nice, piled on top of her head, and she wore her pink lipstick again.
I got my diploma because of you and Mama. All those years, I placed my foot on the green grass, I ran with determination. I ran with that unfound strength. I ran with the strength you told me was pinned-up, buried inside.
I ran.
The truth is Coach, I never had me a Daddy, but you-you were a glimpse, the only spark of something real.
Mama used to drop me off at the soccer fields and there you were grinning, pumping your fist in the air to get us moving. Being able to take off, run wildly with the wind in my face, no sweat or worry was like magic spilling from a wand.
In the beginning, you reffed most of my games, and later, you slipped into the role of coach and mentor. You didn’t know, my Daddy was a drunk with a temper, after all, he never showed his face, not once, but I was glad. You didn’t know several days he made Mama sob for Daddy beat me up. I was his “rag doll” of a son, you see, my arms dangling, pretending I had a soft cushion, bean bag skin. Some nights, I would nab his “‘damn poison” take swigs for every single thing that sucked about Daddy until I passed out and entered a world of peace, color.
Yet, there were times, I did wake up to the stars shining hard, bright outside my bedroom window, a few twinkled, didn’t they?? It reminded me there was more, somewhere.
My senior year, my sorry Daddy drank himself into his own grave.
And, we were able to b-r-e-a-t-h-e.
In June, you came to my graduation in a crisp, blue blazer and sat with my lovely Mama. Her hair was fixed up nice, piled on top of her head, and she wore her pink lipstick again.
I got my diploma because of you and Mama. All those years, I placed my foot on the green grass, I ran with determination. I ran with that unfound strength. I ran with the strength you told me was pinned-up, buried inside.
I ran.
The truth is Coach, I never had me a Daddy, but you-you were a glimpse, the only spark of something real.
