Nine in the morning, standing on the pavement in Strathfield, talking through the wire fence of a tennis court. New coach, new courts, new plan, far from home and cold. I nod. I smile. I leave. Walking up the road I look in the window of a Korean restaurant, filled with noisy customers sipping breakfast soup. Settling in a cafe I call my husband. I am pessimistic and annoyed, he is optimistic and excited. I return at eleven to talk through that fence again. The new coach says thirteen is the age to decide whether you are serious or not.
3 comments:
mmm - not fun on a Saturday morning - from eastern suburbs to Strathfield.
I hope it is worth it!
What an exciting challenging idea - 100 words!
And I can't believe you wrote me a poem... A boy did that when I was 17 but it hasn't happend since. And it wasn't really poetic either. Yours, as always, is. Thank you!
Husbands are not often on the same wave-length, are they?
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