YOUR SERVE.
The umpire’s ruling rang in my ears as it triggers an endless overlapping loop in my mind: I am in control, this is why I practice, treasure this moment, unless you blow it, I won’t, you might, I can’t, gratitude, I need to channel gratitude, this is my chance, someday I’ll tell stories about this moment, I’ve got to shoot my shot, I won’t blow it, I will not blow it.
The whistle blows time and I swallow my last chug of Gatorade.
It tastes slightly medicinal or maybe that’s just the bitter edge of my nerves as I step onto the court and take my shot.
Boy oh boy, that serve had some extra spice on it folks, but was it in or out?
YOUR SERVE.
Thanks to FOWC (RANG), Sunday’ Six Sentence Story (SPICE), and the Sunday Whirl (SEE BELOW) for some great words that inspired me to show off my lack of tennis (or pickle ball?) knowledge.
Tina Stewart Brakebill 