by Kayla Smith
I’ve always wanted more in life. I feel as though I am meant to be something more. I am not satisfied with my bleak, everyday routine. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family and friends-- what they’ve given me and what I’ve learned from them. Our memories can’t be replaced. However, many times a week on my drive to school I find myself wondering, what if I turned right here, instead of going straight? Where would it take me? I find myself asking the same question: Who could I be?
I’m not talking about my personality. I know who I am. I just don’t know how to allow myself to reach full potential until I find my niche in life.
For now, I’ll stick to field hockey.
Every time I walk onto the field, the smell of hot, steaming tar mixed with rubber rises to meet me, enhancing my vision, focusing me.
When the season starts, I hate the smell of turf. I hate the smell that accompanies me as I sprint up and down the field, striving to make it to the finish line before the whistle blows and time is up. I hate the smell that is driven into my face as I do countless pushups. But as the season pushes on, I learn to love the smell of the turf, freshly raked for game day.
On game day, I can reach full potential. I know I’m not the best player, but field hockey is my sweet release.
The whistle tweets, signaling the start of the game. That’s when I leave it all on the line. I run until my lungs split in agony, begging me for just one more puff from my inhaler. I lunge, dodge, and sweep with all of my strength. When I’m in the shooting circle, I know I can be 100 percent.
I see the goal before I make it, inspiring the fight in me.
With a prayer on my lips, I flick the ball into the cage. I wait for what seems like forever.
And then… I hear it. The crisp sound of the ball smacking the wood in the back of the cage.
Laughter erupts out of me as I lean down to pick up the bright orange ball and carry it to the fifty-yard line. I am accomplished.
As I set the ball down, the sweet fumes of turf waft to my face and engulf my nose. I smile, knowing this is just the beginning.