Friday, May 2, 2008

The apple and the tree


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!!

5 comments:

Hilary said...

My older brother never liked sport and it was only after he had grown up that it dawned on him that this could have something to do with the fact that he started wearing glasses at the age of 2, and perhaps he really couldn't see where the ball was to catch/kick/hit it. And then he had a son who played basketball and cricket with skill and enthusiam.

bluemountainsmary said...

I was completely useless at sport - and unfortunately I am quietly confident that so are my kids ...

Suse said...

I was just like you at school, even with the glasses.

And now I have birthed three young soccer players, heaven help me.

eurolush said...

I would've picked you for my team.

kmkat said...

It is at times like these that, if we hadn't actually witnessed that child emerging from our body, we would not believe s/he is ours. Happily, he IS yours.