I write this as I sit on my bed in my motel room in Cairns. I am fully clothed Kim. Honestly.
I have brought my son up to the northern end of Queensland so that he can compete in a tennis tournament. That may seem to be the simplest of sentences, but it is in fact LADEN with irony, complexity and history.
For the apple has fallen far from the tree.
Eleanor the younger spent all of her time either closeted in her room reading, or hunched over a desk in the library studying. Eleanor the younger would pray to god every Wednesday night (and ety believed, with her whole being, in the existence of god) to make it rain the next day. You see, Thursday was Sports Day at her school, and when it rained, ety's class could stay inside and watch movies.
Ety could not catch a ball. When she saw it coming her way she would yell and cover her glasses with her arms. Sometimes she would even cry.
Ety couldn't hit a ball with a stick, bat, racquet, hand or foot if her life depended on it. And often it actually did, because ety had bullies in her class who hated her being on their sports team.
But now ety is all grown up, and she's a tennis mum. Sooooo....let the games begin!!