Two Ten (Dos Diez)

It’s strange what you remember. An unexpected answer. A frivolous object. An affectionate hug. Symbols and numbers take on meaningful significance when they are associated with feelings and emotions. I hustled off the heavy yellow school bus in my honey colored sweatshirt. I always sat near the front. The sidewalk was cracked but I triumphantly skipped over the cement chinks in my size six Converse sneakers. My legs followed the narrow path past the main office to the gym. I rushed to the girls’ side of the spacious gymnasium, oblivious to the endless banners hanging quietly above. I stood in front of the equipment closet, where carefully posted was the list that would determine my mood for the day. There wasn’t a doubt in my young mind that I was included on the final cut list. I crept closer to the closet and craftily looked around to make sure I was alone.
As I held my breath, I read each name. My heart raced faster with each one that wasn’t my own. Finally, the list was finished. I wasn’t on it. I walked in a trance to the locker room door and read the word “Girls”. I stood, staring at the door, fighting off tears I knew were coming. Suddenly, I raced out the gym. My violent feet took me to the library corridor. There were four empty picnic tables outside in the courtyard. I leaned up against the windows and held the wide wood railing. I had a quarter in my pocket. My sweaty hand fumbled with the coin as the first teardrop trickled and touched my cheek. All I worked for during the past seven years was out the window like the soft leaves of the pretty courtyard trees. Inside, I was an empty picnic table. Nothing prepared me for this moment. I was a withered flower seeking nourishment. I stumbled to the nearest phone and dialed home with the only twenty five cents I possessed. I was looking for a sign of life.
I remember my mother’s words and emotions that followed. I remember trying hard to keep my mind off the fateful list. I passed through the sixth grade hallway on my way to my homeroom. My former teacher greeted me from Room 210 and asked me about softball. I told him the news. There was no sense in hiding out. I needed his encouragement, maybe more than I needed it from my mother. Someone outside my family believed in me. He knew how hard I worked and how talented a player I was. I acknowledged him and thanked him. He told me not to give up. I wanted to cut my losses. My locker was a putrid pink. It was so slim I was sure I could barely fit my bookbag inside. The size was deceiving. I shamefully tucked away my softball equipment by stuffing it in the locker too. People are good at fitting more than they can into small compartments. All the sadness I felt was more than my overfilled heart could handle.
There’s a reason for everything. Why is the bright side always hardest to see? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? My heart was broken, but it wouldn’t be the first time. I learned a valuable life lesson that day. Nothing is life is guaranteed. You could work hard and believe in yourself but have little to show for it. I ended playing JV softball. The coaches retracted the cut, admitting he made a mistake. Life is mysteriously good if you sit back and watch it unfold. Sometimes you don’t have to make a stink about being cheated. The good times roll around if you keep your cool. I pitched the best game of my life off the bench. It was the first game of the season and I was summoned to the mound. I’ll never forget the look on everyone’s face after that win. My teammates, the fans, my opponents, and the coaches owed me nothing. But somehow, their faces seemed to owe me everything. I’ve learned to carry some pretty heavy loads on my shoulders. Perhaps it stemmed from the milestone moment in junior high when I overcame rejection. The softball bag in my locker came out. I stored it in Room 210 for the remainder of the season. In eighth grade, I got my own locker in the gym. We were taught Spanish that year. There’s a verb in Spanish: “llevar”. It means to bear something with patience. Patience often pays off. Life is series of graduations and adjustments punctuated with joy and sorrow. For me, it starts with hard work and ends with patience.

Parting Points: Song of the day- The Killers’ “When We Were Young”