Dear Beth,

You amazed me today.

First day of soccer for you--ever--and of course we were running late. And we didn't know which field your team was playing on, and most of the other Unicorns had already shown up by the time we found it. We hadn't gotten your uniform in advance so you had to change your shirt right there on the sidelines. I had your little sisters in tow and it was a million degrees on that shade-less soccer field. I was a flustered, sweaty mess.



But not you. I pulled the way-too-big purple jersey over your head, made you stop for a moment to pose for the obligatory first-day-of-soccer photo, then gave you a nod. "Go on out there," I said. "Listen to your coach and do what he says."



And you were off. Dashing to the field, shouting your name, giving a high five. No hesitating on the sidelines for you, no sir. You exuded enthusiasm and confidence from the get-go. And that's how you were the whole time. You sprinted after the ball. You kicked at it whenever it was within three feet of you. You sat on the sidelines only when forced to, and even then your mind was on the game.



You threw yourself down on the grass beside me. Grabbed your water bottle, wiped your flushed face, kept your eyes on the field the whole time. "Go! Go! Do it! Do it! Score a goal!" you screamed to your fellow Unicorns. You were so intense, so happy, so clearly in love with the game. And I realized that you reminded of those girls.



The sporty girls. The ones from high school. The fit, athletic, assertive, confident ones that I so wished I could be.

Oh, I tried sports. I liked the idea of being an athlete. But when it was time for a real game, I much preferred daydreaming in the outfield or on the bench to actually participating in the event. And when I was forced do something that would contribute one way or another to the team's success...oh, how well I remember the panic that clawed its way up my stomach whenever I got anywhere near the ball. I'm a hesitating on the sidelines kind of girl.



Not you, my Beth. You're a play-your-heart-out kind of girl. Running so hard that the rubber bands slipped right out of your braids and your hair streamed loose behind you. Watching you play, I was proud but bewildered. Where had this mature little athlete come from?




I love your passion, your determination, your casual self-assurance. Maybe, if I watch you long enough, I'll learn them from you.

Love,

Your mom